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'■ V.vj.’ ■■ 


















FOURFOLDo 


BY MRS. NATHANIEL CONKLIN. 

(JENNIE M. DRINKWATER.) 


I. Tessa Wadsworth^s Discipline $1.50 

II. Rue^s Helps. 12mo 1.50 

III. Electa. 12mo 1.50 

IV. Fifteen; or, Lydia’s Happenings . . . . 1.50 

V. Bek’s First Corner. 12mo 1.50 

VI. Miss Prudence. 12mo 1.50 

VII. The Story of Hannah. 12ino 150 

VIII. That Quisset House. 12mo ...... 1.50 

IX. Isobel’s Between Times. 12mo 1.50 

X. Rizpah’s Heritage. 12mo 1.50 

XI. From Flax to Linen. 12mo 1.50 

XII. Fourfold. 12mo 1.50 

XIII. Only Ned. 12ino 1.25 

XIV. Not Bread Alone ; or, Miss Helen’s Neigh- 

bors. 12mo 1.25 

XV. Fred and Jeanie, and How They Learned 

About God. 12mo 1.25 


ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 

New York. 



o 


FOURFOLD 


BY 

MRS. NATHANIEL CONKLIN 

I# 

QENNIE M. DRINKWATER) 



cfjtHiren, tfjcn 


/ 

NEW YORK 

ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS 
530 Broadway 
1889 




P'Z.'2> 


,Cl(^ 1 


. Copyright, 1889, 

Lsv^- ■ ' ' ■ , 

“v- ■ - By Robert Carter & Brothers. 

ii -•■■■■ 





ELECTROTYPED BY 

THE ORPHANS* PRESS — CHURCH CHARITY FOUNDATION, BROOKLYN 

Presswork by John Wilson and Son, 

University Press. 


* 

if 




CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. PAGE 

I. Among the Morning Glories. . 7 

II. In the Land op Wishes ... 18 

III. Among Themselves 39 

IV. By Themselves 55 

Y. That other World 69 

VI. Something Gained 78 

VII. Grandfather’s Letter .... 96 

VIII. Pebbles 110 

IX. Welcome 129 

X. The Hermit 139 

XI. Eleven O’clock 146 

XII. Dr. Kenderdine’s first Patient. 156 

XIII. The Fire on Grandfather’s 

Hearth 181 

XIV. Margaret’s Note 205 

XV. A Midnight Talk 224 


( 5 ) 


6 


CONTENTS. 


XVI. The Next Moeninh 251 

XVII. Purposes and Thoughts. . . . 272 

XVIII. In His Strength 287 

XIX. A Purpose 297 

XX. Heredity 321 

XXI. In the Sewing-Eoom 328 

XXII. Lad and Lassie 335 

XXIII. Whose Fault was It? . . . . 352 

XXIV. Good-Bye 365 

XXV. Fourfold 375 

XXVI. The First Place 382 

XXVII. Another Crazy Thing . . . .391 

XXVIII. At Daybreak 402 

XXIX. Mrs. Kenderdine’s Story . . . 414 

XXX. In, Through, and For .... 430 

XXXI. Helping and getting ready to 

Help 438 

XXXII. By the Brook 446 

XXXIII. That Winter 457 


FOURFOLD. 


I. 

AMONG THE MORNING GLORIES. 

A being, breathing thoughtful breath.” 

HAVEN^T an emphasized Marigold, the 

sweet fret&lness in her voice more fretful and less 
sweet than usual. 

About what — this time ? questioned Tanzy, 
whose voice could not hold one strain of fretfulness ; 
like herself it was wholesome. 

Marigold said it was queer about Tanzy, but she 
always knew what to do next. 

About anything — this time.^^ 

That^s the song you are always singing. Fd 
get an idea and keep it, simply to be uncharacter- 
istic.’^ 

You might tell me, simply to be uncharacter- 
istic.” 


( 7 ) 


8 


FOURFOLD. 


You are a year and a half older/^ retorted Tan- 
zy, with assumed meekness. 

I am not two years older than father and 
mother^ and they never know what I want next/^ 
retorted Marigold^ not meekly, and you always 
know, and you are cross and will not say.^^ 

The sweetness was still tangled in among the 
chords of fretfulness ; the queer thing about Mari- 
gold, was that she could be so sweet and so fretful 
in the same breath. 

Her lips were sweet, even when they pouted, as 
they were pouting at this moment ; Tanzy had told 
her, warningly, that she came into the world sweet, 
but if she didn^t take care she would go out 
of it sour; it was the sweet things that did turn 
sour. 

It^s shameful to speak so of father and mother,^^ 
rebuked Tanzy, coloring high with anger ; you 
ought to be ashamed of yourself.’^ 

I am not, and it^s true,^^ pouted Marigold, flush- 
ing, but with less feeling. 

Perhaps it is just as true that you do not help 
them,^^ said Tanzy, with her rebukeful air ; ^^daugh- 
ters are made to help fathers and mothers, after 
they are grown up.’^ 


AMONG THE MORNING GLORIES. 


9 


Who’s grown up, the fathers and mothers ? ” 
with a tantalizing laugh. 

I wouldn’t want to stay in this world just to be 
helped ; I’d be the one to help, or give it up,” said 
Tanzy, spiritedly, not noticing the repartee. 

Lifting her arms. Marigold wound them about the 
post against which she was leaning, and caught her 
fingers in the morning-glory vines. Dropping her 
head against a purple cluster, she said wearily, 
I’ve given up, then. I don’t see any fun or any 
good in living, anyway.” 

‘‘ Neither do I — of living any way, and that’s 
why I am going to try soine other way.” 

0, Tanzy,” loosening her arms, and lifting her 
head, ‘‘ are you going to find some new thing to 
do ? Will you dare ask papa ? ” 

I shall, whether I dare or not.” 

When ? To-day ? He never stays angry 
long with you.” 

It will come out of itself — ^when it can’t be 
kept in any longer. When I told him yesterday 
that I was twenty-one, he said that he could not 
think of anything to do for me, or give me ; that he 
had given all. It nearly broke my heart. I told 
him that I wanted to do it for myself. I only 


10 


FOURFOLD. 


wanted natural things. And he did not understand. 
And poor mamma looked so uncomprehending. 
She said every girl did not inherit her great- 
grandfather's money on her twenty-first birthday ; 
and I said I liked better as many thousand daisies. 
Papa said that showed my taste for natural things, 
and there it ended — as it always does. What has 
your birthday inheritance done for you ? You had 
it first, and you have not done one new thing.^^ 

“ No,^^ said Marigold, in her manner of childish 
helplessness, there was nothing new to have or 
do.^^ 

^^If there isn% then I want to go to heaven,^^ 
answered the younger sister, decidedly. 

‘‘ O, Tanzy, you don’t want to die ! ” with a cry 
of dismay. 

Tanzy said dreadful things, but she had 
never said anything as dreadful as this before. 

Perhaps I wan’t to live, then, and have that 
other world come to me. If we have had all, what 
is the use of staying here any longer ? ” 

Here ? At Daisy Fields ? ” 

No ; here in this dull, empty, fuU world, where 
you get tired of the things money buys ; where 
you have nothing to do but to be happy. Papa has 


among the morning glories. 


11 


told me about that until I am so tired of being 
tappy? ^ want to be unhappy for a change. 
Mamma always says she is happy, and so she is, or 
looks so ; but she has a happy disposition, and 
doesn^t get tired of the old things. For years I 
have said that when I was twenty-one, I could do 
as I liked to do ; but I have been twenty-one a 
month and three days, and the old ways go on.^^ 

Marigold gradually sank back into her old posi- 
tion ; Tanzy was standing upright, clasping and un- 
clasping her hands. 

Nobody’s life is a success, I read this morning, 
so I do not see how ours can be. Perhaps that ^ rare, 
pale Margaret ’ is as tired of things as we are,” said 
Marigold. 

No, she is not. She is not tired of anything. 
She is as fresh as a bird ; I believe it is she who 
makes me more discontented than ever. I want to 
be as free as she is. I believe she can go to walk 
or drive or go out and find people, or ask people to 
come without having to ask, or give an account of 
it. And she is not older than we are. Papa thinks 
our life counts for nothing, and we have lived and 
had experience these twenty years.” 

In Tanzy’s tone the years were prolonged to 


12 


FOURFOLD, 


more than the one score; and the ^ experience ^ sig- 
nified a life time. 

Marigold did not look as though she had lived 
and had experience these twenty years ; when the 
frown smoothed itself out, and her eyes twinkled, 
and her lips parted over her pretty teeth, her face 
in its round, fair girlishness, was as fresh as at six- 
teen. She had hated to look at herself ever since 
she first learned that her forehead and cheeks were 
freckled (and even the tips of her ears) and that her 
hair was not black like Tanzy^s, but red and yellow. 
She loved Tanzy^s black hair and clear skin, and 
when she was seven years old had been discovered 
by nurse with the contents of a bottle of shoe polish 
streaming from the crown of her red head down over 
her white dress, in a premeditated and determined 
effort to make black hair like Tanzy^s. She was 
named Helen for her mother, but her father had 
called her Marigold in honor of her pretty, babyish 
locks, and then continued it for love of it, and to 
distinguish her name from her mother^s name, which 
was hourly on his lips. The second baby girl, in 
her third summer, which was passed at Daisy Fields, 
had shown such a fondness for a green herb that 
nurse found growing near the ruins of an old house. 


AMONG THE MORNING GLORIES, 


13 


that she had it to hold and trot around with, from 
morning till night, and would cry when it was taken 
from her, and put out her hand on awaking from 
sleep to find it. At first in playfulness, her father 
began to call her Tanzy, then nurse and mamma 
and little sister took it up. Before she was four 
years old, her acknowledged name, Louise, seemed 
to have passed entirely out of the household calen- 
dar, and Marigold and Tanzy became the children's 
names. 

Helen and Louise were written upon the 
first page of their childish copy-books, but Marigold 
and Tanzy were a part of themselves. 

Marigold was taken by strangers to be the 
younger sister ; no one had ever mistaken them for 
twins ; Tanzy was believed to be at least two years 
the senior. 

Tanzy felt old, and believed that she looked old ; 
her life had been so long and lived in so many 
places. 

Marigold did not hold on to things and grow old 
as she did. An English lady, who met the family in 
Switzerland, in speaking to her friends of the Hen- 
dersons, that interesting and unusual American 
family,’^ said that Tanzy was the oldest of the 


14 


FOURFOLD. 


family, older, even, than her father and mother. 

The mother, like Marigold, never held on to any- 
thing ; each day brought something worth living for 
and being happy about — with this difference, that 
Marigold was capable of being awakened and find- 
ing out that she was hungry, and hungry for some- 
thing better than anything that had been given to 
her. The mother had lived eighteen years longer 
than Marigold, but she had not had experience.’’ 

She said she had not had a trouble in her life ; 
that is, nothing that she could not go to sleep and 
forget. 

The father, who had lived twenty-two years 
longer than Marigold, had not seemed to have ex- 
perience ; ” if he had he kept it to himself. The 
current of family life would have run on as spark- 
ling and clear as a brook in the sunlight, but for 
Tanzy. But for Tanzy and her twenty-first birth- 
day. 

Tanzy had rebelled and demanded a freedom 
that her father was not ready to grant. She did 
not ask that she might spend her money ; she sim- 
ply wished to spend herself. 

I wish I hadn’t,” was Marigold’s response to her 
sister’s last remark. I wish I could be born over 


AMONG THE MORNING GLORIES, 


15 


and begin again. Td travel the world over to find 
some one to tell me how.^^ 

^^We never found any one/^ said Tanzy, ^^and 
weVe travelled since I was seven years old.^^ 

We never asked.’^ 

Fve seen people that looked as though they 
knew. I believe Margaret knows. And I am sure 
her mother does.’^ 

^^Much good they do us/^ frowned Marigold. 

I asked papa yesterday if we might call, and 
he told me not to speak of it again/’ said Tanzy. 

I shall speak of it again. I shall speak again 
of everything I wish to do.” 

Marigold’s face was a picture of delight. 

Her strongest faith was in her sister. 

With a laugh, Tanzy sprang forward, and 
snatched into her arms the kitten basking on the 
door-stone. The kitten was a shining black, with 
a pure white vest, and a cunning white head, 
with a black spot on its saucy nose. Tanzy had 
coaxed it away from the stable, and three times 
daily poured cream into a decorated saucer, and 
gave ^^Baby” breakfast, dinner, and supper out 
upon the back porch. 

Framed by the morning-glories, Tanzy stood 


16 


FOURFOLD. 


upon the low door-stone, holding Baby close to her 
cheek, her lips pressed into the soft fur 5 her short 
plaid skirt of brown and blue scarcely reaching to 
the tops of her walking-boots, a rim of red stocking 
appearing above the boot-top. A half-worn basque 
of red cloth finished the upper part of her girlish 
attire. The sleeves were pushed away from her 
plump wrists ; the red collar, unfastening itself, had 
fallen back from the warm flesh tint of the full 
throat ; her tumbled hair was coiled loosely upon the 
top of her shapely head. The mischievous gleam in 
the dark gray of her eyes gave way to deepest 
seriousness, as she kept her face hidden close to the 
black fur. 

She had arrayed herself for a tramp in the woods, 
and had reached the kitchen porch on her way to 
the garden gate, where she found Marigold, 
confiding her fretfulness to the morning-glories. 

I can^t go with you. Tan. I told papa Vd 
read ^ Percy^s Reliques ^ with him this morning. 
Pd rather go in the woods. But he told me how 
Sir Walter Scott read Percy under an oriental 
plane tree in a Scotch garden, when he was thirteen, 
and it made him a poet. He was thirteen, and I 
am years older, and I haven’t read him yet. Poor 


AMONG THE MORNING GLORIES. 


17 


papa ! ^ hat a medley the education of his two 

girls is ! Tanzy, wouldn’t it be dreadful if papa 
should be disappointed in us ? You know, with his 
invalidism, he hasn’t anything else in the world to 
live for.” 

I shouldn’t think he would be disappointed as 
we are now. He shall not be, if he will let go of 
me.” 

The half sob was miifiled in the soft fur. 

^^He will never do that. He says he never 
will.” 

Then he will have two dreary nonentities 
to be the stay of his declining years, that’s all,” 
laughed Tanzy, setting Baby down in the sunshine. 


2 


II. 


IN THE LAND OP WISHES. 

^‘Hope rules a land forever green 

I AM glad father and mother have me/’ Tanzy 
had had occasion to think many times in her 
thoughtful life ; but her loyal heart had never made 
occasion to put it into words. 

Before she was twelve years old she felt, without 
knowing how she felt it, that her father, loving and 
indulgent as he was, was different from the other 
fathers that she saw every where ; she remembered 
the first time that the feeling came to her. They 
were in a big, lonesome, crowded hotel in Washing- 
ton, and an English girl was starting off for church 
with her father ; she never went to church with her 
father, — and this father was so straight and strong 
and tall, but that was not the difference ; the differ- 
ence was in something she could not define ; she 
remembered that Marigold found her crying, and, 

she could not tell what for. 

( 18 ) 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES. 


19 


And her mother was not like other mothers ; she 
petted and kissed her children and then sent them 
away to nurse ; she was proud of their health and 
beauty and pretty speeches, but she never taught 
them anything, and never knew how to answer their 
questions. 

As she grew up she began to feel that if she might 
only have been the mother of her father and mother, 
some things in their lives would not have been as 
they so sadly were. 

This father and mother had never once thought 
that the life that contented them, was not wide 
enough and deep enough for two growing girls ; 
they were sure they were devoted to their children, 
that they were giving their lives to them ; and they 
expected the same untiring devotion in return. 
Beside each other, their children were their only 
real object in life. 

In winter, all that Ernest Henderson asked of his 
present state of existence, was a climate cool enough 
for an evening fire, and warm enough for an after- 
noon drive without an overcoat ; any book he cared 
to read at hand, his wife not far away to do his bid- 
ding, his daughters within range of his watchful eye ; 
in summer, shade and coolness, his wife and daugh- 


20 


FOURFOLD. 


ters, his books, with always the knowledge that any 
hour of the day he might toss aside his book, speak 
the word of command to his family, and start 
for any quarter of the globe whither impulse 
prompted. 

All that Helen Henderson asked of life, and this 
present life was the only existence she ever thought 
about ; was her husband^s favor, the presence of her 
girls, rather, perhaps, to know that no harm was be- 
falling them, her afternoon nap, her dinner, and her 
fancy work. She did not dislike the constant trav- 
elling, and never resisted her husband^s will, or con- 
sidered any sudden and unreasonable change a 
whim. 

The pity of it was that both were born rich and 
ease-loving. He lost his father before he could 
speak, and she was early orphaned. 

They were cousins, and had played together on 
the wide lawn at Daisy Fields since he could 
remember. After they grew older, his books and 
her fancy-work were always strewed together over 
the same table. When he could not find his book, 
it was hidden away under something that belonged 
to her. When her wool, or silk, or paint-brush 
was missing, it was sure to be found among his 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


21 


books. Having been injured by a runaway 
horse in his tenth year^ he 'became delicate, 
and was never afterwards sent to school. She 
begged to study at home with him, and there- 
after a governess was installed. Her tears fell 
upon book and slate. She could never remember 
dates or learn the difference between numerator 
and denominator. The governess told her grand- 
father that Miss Helen had no brain for study ; but 
she had a taste for fancy-work and drawing, and he 
might better educate her fingers. 

The day she was seventeen, he decided to 
send her to boarding-school. She was a pretty, 
stupid little thing, and, with her cousin, the 
heir to his fortune. She must, at least, learn 
how to write a letter and compute interest. 

The cousins were late in the school-room that 
afternoon that she was seventeen — the school- 
room fire being still the gathering-place. 

The next morning, his mother being ill in 
her own chamber, and grandfather writing in 
his study, they had another talk over the school- 
room fire. 

The conclusion of it was that grandfather was 
disturbed, and Ernest and Helen stood before 


22 


FOURFOLD. 


him — she trembling from head to foot, and hiding 
her face in her handkerchief, and he taller and 
braver than he had ever been in his life. 

He was five feet and four inches in height, 
and her yellow head reached his shoulder ; neither 
weighed one hundred pounds. 

The little cousins and playmates and devoted 
friends had come to grandfather’s study to beg 
that the boarding-school decree might be revoked, 
and that, instead, they might be married. 

I am twenty-one to-day,” he announced, throw- 
ing back his head. 

Grandfather lifted his head, and looked at 
them. 

In the awful silence Helen clung to Ernest, and 
burst into frightened tears. 

We can’t live without each other, grandfather,” 
she sobbed. 

Go away,” he answered, sternly. Ernest, I 
will talk to your mother.” 

The next month they were married. Grand- 
father had said it was a sure way to keep the 
money in the family. 

Before Marigold was born, his mother died ; 
and when Tanzy was five years old, grandfather 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


23 


died, bequeathing, in a will made one summer 
morning after a sleepless night, to each little great- 
granddaughter the sum of twenty thousand dollars, 
of which they were to become possessed upon their 
twenty-first birthday, the interest to remain until 
that time untouched. 

For a year after the old man’s death, their home 
was at Daisy Fields, and then Ernest, who had not 
been like his own careless, good-humored self since 
the day of the funeral, in one of his fits of restless- 
ness, told his wife that he hated Daisy Fields, that 
they had never seen the world, and now was the time 
to see it ; after this they were at home only when 
the mood seized him. His wife sighed secretly for 
rest and quiet, and in all the world they had seen, 
Daisy Fields was the place the girls held dearest. 

East, West, 

Home’s best,’^ 

was often on Tanzy’s lips. Nurse had been with 
them since Marigold’s birth ; both the girls had 
promised her a pension when they should no longer 
need her care. 

But we shall always need you,” Marigold had 
added. 


24 


FOURFOLD. 


With her basket and broad straw hat, Tanzy 
went out the garden gate, across the fields, and up 
the slope to the woods. Marigold, with her eyes 
alight and hope singing in her heart, kept her en- 
gagement with her father. She found him on his 
lounge in the darkened sitting-room, with the book 
that made Sir Walter Scott a poet, open in his hand. 
Sitting beside him, as he drew himself upright, she 
nestled her head on his shoulder and immediately 
began to read aloud. 

From her chair in the bay window, the mother 
glanced across to the poetry lovers and smiled at 
the picture they made ; the fathers dark cheek was 
resting against the girPs red gold head ; he was as 
dark as a Spaniard and she as fair as any Saxon 
maiden. His long black beard and heavy mous^ 
tache lent a fierceness to the face that was contra- 
dicted by one look into the large, wistful, pathetic 
eyes. 

He was a restless being, never quiet unless ab- 
sorbed in one of his absorbing books ; when in the 
humor, haranguing his limited audience upon any 
subject that he chanced to be interested in, and, at 
intervals, wrapping himself in silence day after day, 
only the light touch of his hand, or an unsought kiss 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 25 

betokening that he was not grievously offended with 
some of his own.’^ 

My Own was one of his many pet names for 
his wife and daughters. 

Papa had his moods. Sometimes even venturesome 
Tanzy dared not speak to him; but mamma never 
had moods, she never had anything that troubled 
anybody ; it was not what this mother was, so much 
as what she was not that made the difference to her 
girls. 

Papa is such a lovely Christian,’^ she said to 
them that morning, in her worshipful tone. 

Marigold assented somewhat uncertainly, and 
frank Tanzy assented not at all. 

Ernest Henderson believed that he acquiesced in 
the will of God, so far as he was aware. The will 
of God never crossed his purposes. It had taken 
his mother, but not before it had given him his 
wife. His mother had humored and spoiled him, 
but she was quick-tempered and unjust, and he had 
never loved her as he loved his small cousin. The 
will of God had permitted his accident, and taken 
his health ; but that was years ago, and he had for*» 
gotten that he missed physical energy. The will 
of God had taken his grandfather, but his grand- 


26 


FOURFOLD. 


father was stern, and he was afraid of him, and 
impatient of his rule. The will of God had given 
him more money than he cared to use, if not more 
than he cared to hoard. It had given him riches 
with his wife. His children were abundantly pro- 
vided for. The will of God had given him children, 
beautiful and strong, obedient and very loving. He 
told his wife that he reverenced and loved this 
beneficent Will. That he had no desire to change 
it by any prayer of his own. Happy in my lot,^^ 
was the motto of his life. The words in Latin were 
scribbled in many of his books. His days were so 
filled with ease and plenty that he had never to 
give a thought for anything provided. His check 
had hitherto answered every demand. For the 
future he had no more need of carefulness than for 
the abundant present. The birds in their nests 
were no more trustful than he. Could any but an 
ingrate rebel against such a kindly Will ? 

His wife^s blue eyes swam in tears as she 
listened. It was always so beautiful to hear Ernest 
talk. Had she thought about herself at all, she 
would have said that she felt as he did, and loved 
the Will he loved ; but she did not think at all — » 
she did not know how to think. In all her life she 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


27 


had never been anything but sweet, and stupid, and 
loving. 

That sounds very musical,’^ she said, as Mari- 
gold read. 

When the girls grew up, and began to read 
aloud to their father, she was fretted with the inter- 
ruption ; but she had learned to love the sound of 
their voices, while she did not follow the words. 

The stories she was interested in — particularly 
the more sensational ones — but the poems were 
merely pretty sounding words, uttered by familiar 
voices. 

Mamma, what do you think ? was a question 
her daughters had learned not to ask. 

I don^t kpow, dear ; judge for yourself,^^ had 
wearied them with its endless repetition. 

Marigold read her father to sleep — ^he was always 
begging to be read to sleep ; and Tanzy, bending 
over mosses and discovering tufts of new ferns, was 
forgetting for the hour that she was discontented. 
She was pondering anew words that her father had 
spoken that morning at breakfast, words that she 
was weary of (she did not like to acknowledge, even 
by herself in the woods, that she was weary of papa^s 
talk), but she was heart-sick of his boast, given with 


28 


FOURFOLD. 


the appearance of modest self-confidence, that his 
grandfather had not been inside a church, except 
for music and the study of architecture, for half a 
century, and that he was his worthy successor ; that 
his grandfather^s life had been full of the good things 
of this world, without any appeal to the Divine 
Mercy ; that he had not set his judgment in array 
against Infinite Wisdom, and that he had been 
gathered to his fathers in a good old age, leaving 
behind him, wealth for his children’s children ; and 
what was he, that his grandfather’s prosperity 
should not satisfy him ? What more could the All 
Powerful ask, than perfect submission to his infinite 
power ? Why were any form of words necessary 
to the heart that beat ever in gratitude and in ten- 
derest compassion and goodwill towards its fellows ? 

That might be very beautiful, and it might be 
wise and best ; but with her heart aching with its 
overfulness of throbbing hopes and wishes and 
yearnings, she knew she was not satisfied, and the 
disappointment had opened her lips, although she 
had tried to keep them shut. 

Her father told her she was rebellious, and she 
had retorted that she was glad she was, for rebels 
gained something by rebellion. 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


29 


But alone, in the solemn woods, her tears dropped 
slowly and with real penitence, for she would not 
rebel against the One who had fashioned that tiniest 
flower in the heart of the moss ; for how loving and 
gentle he must be to care to do such a little thing 
as that ? For her, perhaps, for no one else had ever 
stooped to touch it. If he would only care for her 
to speak to him, she would love to thank him for 
that moist green life that he had thought about ; and, 
if it were not rebelling against his choice for her, 
she would love to ask him to change her own life 
into something that would reach out into different 
things. The people in the cottage over the way, 
— Mrs. Kenderdine, and Margaret and Mark — nurse 
had learned their names, were living in a different 
world, as different as though it were in Mars or 
Venus. It was a world where sacrificing one’s self 
seemed to make one joyful ; for Margaret’s father 
had brought her home with her ailing mother from 
India, and left them, and gone back alone ; and the 
mother would die and never see him again, and she 
bravely urged him go when she knew what the end 
would be. That was too hard for her to do, but she 
was glad that somebody was heroic enough ; nurse 
said Mrs. Kenderdine laughed like any one else, and 


30 


FOURFOLD, 


Margaret was as bright and pretty as any other 
girl^ even if they did have such heathenish no- 
tions ; they might as well throw themselves into 
the Ganges at once. 

But nurse could not appreciate heroism ; papa 
spoke with a pitying contempt of the father and 
husband who would desert wife and daughter, and 
mamma said it was too dreadful to think about/^ 
and she was thankful papa hadn^t such ideas. Ma- 
rigold said it would do for poetry, but she would 
have such things in real life ; such sacrifices would 
make one brave and strong. 

That was her idea of being a Christian. That 
was like Christ, of whom she knew only that he had 
given himself for the world and died — how that life 
and death benefitted the world she had but a dim 
idea ; he must have been nearest what God is of 
any human being; perhaps that was why people 
who wanted to be unselfish and true, called them- 
selves after his name : Christians. 

Papa had taken a Bible she found among his 
books away from her, saying she was not old enough 
to understand it, and he had forbidden nurse, when 
they were little, to teach them her religious 
ideas ; all the truth and purity she needed would 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


31 


come to her in the air and sunshine, he said to her 
yesterday ; all she had to do was to obey him and 
read nothing he forbade, and give herself up to the 
sweet influences of nature ; she was born into the 
world pure and sweet, and everything was given 
ready made, for her growth and pleasure. 

It must be that she was rebellious ; she was 
not sweet ; if she had been made sweet, she had un- 
made herself ; and she would rather die here in the 
woods and be covered up with the dead leaves, than 
go home and go on as she had done all her life, and 
be like mamma, and not know or care about any- 
thing outside in the world, and never be any nearer 
to the One who gave her everything, and never be 
strong and brave and full of service like her ideal 
of Margaret. 

A girl they met in Eome had told her she always 
prayed to Christ, and she knew he heard her, and 
answered her; she died afterward of the Eoman 
fever, and sent a message to Marigold and 
Tanzy — beseeching them to read the New Testa- 
ment. The little note was one of her treasures ; but 
she had not read the New Testament. Papa said the 
appeal was very pretty and poetical, and befitting a 
girl of such a susceptible and adoring nature. He 


32 


FOURFOLD. 


had covered it with words — ^he covered everything 
with words, and there it ended. Margaret must be 
like that girl in Rome ; she wished she might ask 
her if she prayed to Christ. But unless he heard 
and answered, might she not as well fall down be-^ 
fore that bleeding head that haunted her so long 
after she stood before the painting in Florence ? 

If she prayed, she must have an answer. 

Would He approve papa’s teaching ? 

She would tell papa that she must have a New Tes-^ 
t ament. She was surely old enough ” now to read 
it. If this were her grandfather’s — her great-grand- 
father’s — influence, she would rather give him back 
his money than be fettered by his life. Why could 
not papa find out if his grandfather’s way was the 
best way ? Did not Mark Kenderdine believe as 
his cousin believed ? 

With no brother, and no boy cousin, Tanzy 
envied the girl over the way. The tall cousin who 
took walks with her, who shelled peas on the 
piazza with her, who stood at the piano and sung 
with her, and who read aloud evening after evening. 
It must be splendid to have somebody laugh at 
you, and love you, and know more than you, and 
help you ; somebody that you need not obey unless 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES. 


33 


you pleased, somebody that you might even quarrel 
with, like your sister — and yet not be your sister, 
nor your father ; and with the delicious certainty, or 
uncertainty, that some day he might love you bet- 
ter than either. 

Tanzy^s eyes might not have grown wise and 
wistful at the thought of Mark Kenderdine, as girls^ 
eyes will grow in their innocent day-dreams, had 
she heard him say to his aunt that morning : 

Auntie, why don^t you cultivate those two 
pretty heathens over the way ? You wouldn^t find 
two girls with much less right teaching among your 
caste girls. Mrs. Lancaster told me all she knows 
about them and their ancestry, when Margaret and I 
called last night. Their father is a Nothingarian 
and their mother a Nonenity. The girls are 
bright, notwithstanding, and have some life and 
energy, with all the parental pressure. This place 
they call Daisy Fields — the name is on one of the 
posts at the entrance. They like the old fashion of 
it, and come back to it as lambs come back to the 
fold at night. She says they have been all over 
America, and Europe, and into Asia and Africa ; 
and the girls have teachers when they winter or 
summer in a place. An old grandfather is at the 


34 


FOURFOLD. 


bottom of the depravity, with his teachings, his 
example, and his money. The girls are kept down 
like children in the nursery, and are not allowed 
to make friends in the village, or even to return 
calls. Mrs. Henderson has never called on the 
Lancasters, but she is not to be counted on. She^s 
only her husband^s plaything, and the girls are his 
obedient subjects. She says he is afraid of fortune- 
hunters — the girls will inherit a good-sized fortune, 
so he keeps them inside of the garden-wall. I don^t 
know how he manages when he has them on the 
wing ; keeps a string to each of his wrists, I suppose, 
and brings them down if they flutter above his 
head. They are both over twenty, too, and 
rather inclined to assert their womanly independ- 
ence, Mrs. Lancaster suspects. I wish Margaret 
could be friendly with them. IM like to see what 
they are made of. Do you know, I believe they 
are the girls Uncle Mark noticed with their father 
in the British Museum. He described the father, 
and you do not see his like every day. Uncle Mark 
measured him with the eye of a physician, and he 

said what Mrs. Lancaster suspects 

The young man bent over and spoke a few words 
in a lower key. 


IN THE LAND OF WISHES, 


35 


Poor things/^ exclaimed Mrs. Kenderdine, com- 
passionately. 

Tanzy^ with her splendid health, her youth, her 
beauty, and with every desire gratified that her 
father’s wealth and will could gratify, would have 
lifted her proud head in unfeigned surprise, had she 
overheard the compassion of Mrs. Kenderdine’s re- 
ply ; but the proud head would have drooped in utter 
shame had she learned what Uncle Mark ” had 
divined of the father talking to his girls in the Brit- 
ish Museum, and what Mrs. Lancaster, another 
over-the-way neighbor, suspected. 

A few years ago, it would have hurt her less, to 
lose her love for her father than to lose her faith in 
him ; when she was weary of him, it was because 
she herself was wrong ; when she did not love to 
obey him, it was her own disloyalty ; but, of late, 
a pity was creeping into her love, her admiration 
was not as open and warm ; one of her acknowledged 
reasons for being ever at his side, was to keep him 
from the humiliation of learning the bitterness and 
disappointment of his own life. 

He can’t begin again,” she had told herself, 
and it might kill him to find it out too late.” 

How she was finding it out she could not have 


36 


FOURFOLD, 


told you. She knew that corner cabinet held a 
secret^ but she had not dared to wonder what it 
might be ; she knew, also, that with her great- 
grandfather’s memory, was connected some sorrow 
to her father, and with that, how could he begin 
again ? 

Digging with her bare, strong fingers at the root 
of the moss, her thoughts roved to the cottage over 
the way ; Mark Kenderdine was to her, like a hero 
in a book, he was hardly more real, for she did not 
look forward to speaking to him ; she thought she 
would like to be the invisible fourth on their piazza, 
or in that small, pretty parlor that she had had 
peeps of ; she would like to know what they loved 
best to talk about ; she was curious to live awhile 
in their unfamiliar world. 

They were somebody to watch ; all her life she 
had watched people ; it was her way and Marigold’s 
of making friends ; she liked to weave stories out 
of the little she saw, and the much she imagined, 
and tell the stories to Marigold. 

Her story ^bout Mark was that he was high- 
spirited, with rare self-control ; a fine, sympathetic 
nature, and great daring, making him a treasure as 
a friend ; Margaret was like a violet by a mossy 


m THE LAND OF WISHES. 


37 


stone ; and in her shy way, loved him better than 
he knew ; she hoped they would all stay long enough 
that she might see some ending to their story. 
They did not stay long enough anywhere to see the 
ending of anything. 

Life was all tag ends, she told Marigold. She 
hoped some one whole thing would happen to her 
sometime. 

Their life in a crowd, was solitary ; a hotel in 
Paris was lonelier than Daisy Fields. 

Their father had a decalogue of his own for his 
girls. Outside of it was danger. 

The stories she told were of strangers that would 
ever, if her father had his will, remain strangers. 

He had told her that she had few relatives, he 
scarcely remembered their names ; they were 
among the poor and hard-working class ; her great 
grandfather had made his money apart from them 
and acknowledged no kinship. 

This is our Real Life,^^ she often said to Mari- 
gold, when she began her stories, and the actual 
days with the tiresome round of permitted pleasures, 
and the barriers built higher and higher as the child- 
ren grew into girlhood, and from girlhood into 
womanhood, were the Unreal Life.’^ 


38 


FOURFOLD. 


When some good fairy gave them three wishes, 
the first would be that the unreal life might be scat- 
tered to the four winds, and the book of ^^Real 
Life be opened and lived in from beginning to end. 
But in all their travels they had never met the good 
fairy. 

Even mamma would no longer coax papa to let 
them go outside the gate/^ as she used to do when 
they were little things in Switzerland. 

I will not have my life/^ she exclaimed with 
new vehemence, as she lifted her moss and fern 
crowded basket. will have something differ- 
ent.^^ And then, as she pushed her way through 
the xmderbrush, the vehemence smothered itself out 
in the sigh. There’s no one in the world to give 
it to me.” Before she unlatched the garden gate, 
another sigh was freighted with, Perhaps the 
different isn’t any better — and that’s hardest of all. 
Papa says he has kept us from the danger, and 
given us the best.” 

As the gate swung shut, Marigold appeared on 
the porch. 

Hurry, Tan,” she called, papa wants to drive, 
and you must dress.” 


III. 


AMONG THEMSELVES. 

We think caged birds sing, when, indeed, they cry.’^ 

The day was over. The drive of thirty miles 
was ended before afternoon tea at home. The girls 
played several duets in the long June twilight and 
sung several songs. Then their father asked for a 
game of chess, and their mother sat back and dozed 
with a pile of silks in her lap, and her gold thimble 
crowning her plump finger. She was awakened 
by her husband^s voice speaking eagerly : Speak 
first. Marigold. You are the elder. Where shall 
we trip off to this summer ? 

Marigold was sitting on a hassock at her mother^s 
side, tangling her silks, and then untangling them. 
Tanzy had pushed the chess-board aside, leaving 
the chessmen for Nurse to put away, and came to a 
chair in the bay-window opposite her mother. Her 

restless fingers were clasped, to compel them to be 

(39) 


40 


FOURFOLD. 


still. Her head was thrown hack against the silk 
cushion her mother had fastened with ribbons to 
the chair to serve as head-rest, her foot, com- 
pelled into stillness, like her hands, was tappiug 
the rug at her feet. 

I do not want to go anywhere, papa,’^ said Ma- 
rigold, glancing up into her sister^s face. ^^No, 
Mary Ann,^^ to the maid, who entered to light the 
lamps, leave us in the moonlight. I want to stay 
here, papa. We have not stayed here all summer 
since we were little girls.’^ 

The father, in his restless moving about, paused 
at her side. 

^ Chained to one spot, 

They draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,’ ” 

he half growled. 

But the chains are the honeysuckle vines, 
and the daisies, and the odor of the rye and the 
wild grapes, and that thrush in the woods ! Oh, 
Tan, if we could sing like that.’^ 

I will take you into the country, if it is country 
you wish. I want to take you the length of the St. 
Lawrence.^^ 

Oh, weVe been there ! sighed Tanzy. 


AMONG THEMSELVES, 


41 


I don’t want rivers/’ added Marigold. I 
want home. No place but this is home. Papa, we 
were born at Daisy Fields.” 

That is no reason why we should die here. 
You remind me of the Greek who thought he could 
speak English. He said, ‘ Here is where Hercules 
used to be born,’ and did not see the fun when 
some one asked: ‘ Where was he accustomed to 
die?’” 

The girls laughed, and their mother smiled 
drowsily. 

Marigold pushed the silk pile away, and rested 
her head against her mother’s shoulder. 

Let’s not decide anything, papa. Let’s just 
stay here without deciding,” proposed Marigold, 
mischievously. 

‘‘ Marigold, you remind me of a definition of 
woman : a good idea — spoiled.” 

That’s what we both are,” said Tanzy, in her 
stern young voice. 

What has spoiled you ? ” he inquired, as 
sternly. 

My life — my money — myself, perhaps.” 

‘‘ Your life and money,” he repeated, sharply. 

Your life is shielded and safe, Louise.” 


42 


FOURFOLD. 


Too safe/’ she answered, unafraid of the dread- 
ful Louise/^ which was brought forth only to add 
authority to rebellious occasions. want to re- 
sist something 

It does not seem that your life needs to be 
changed to do that/^ he rebuked. 0, my little 
Tanzy, you never used to thwart me.^^ 

I never used to be grown up.’^ 

You never had money in your own right, be- 
fore ; you are spoiled, indeed, if a little money has 
so changed you and given you airs.’^ 

Papa, you will not understand,’^ she sighed, 
understand that you are twenty-one; you 
have thrust the glorious fact into my face daily.” 

And when mamma was twenty-one she was not 
held in as we are. She had two little girls ; she 
could have a mind of her own, if she wanted one — ” 
She never did. She had a husband to think 
for her, as you have a father. You shall mingle 
with people, if that is what you desire.” 

I do not know all I desire. I believe I am 
homesick without knowing what my home is like. 
I felt it when I passed that pretty white church to- 
day, with its doors wide open ; that rude, loud sing- 
ing sounded sweet, and the preacher’s voice sounded 


AMONG THEMSELVES. 


43 


as though he were teaching something I need to 
know ; something I need to know and do.” 

All you need to know your father knows, and 
can tell you.” 

When ? ” was the impatient question ; you 
have had me twenty-one years, and you have not 
told me.” 

^^You have never asked me,” he evaded, un- 
easily. 

May I read the New Testament ? ” 

It was not a question, it was a demand. 

Why do you wish to read it ? ” 

Because Christ knew what to do with life — he 
knew what to do with his own ; he will tell me what 
to do with mine.” 

^^And make a fanatic of yourself!” he cried, 
angrily ; a pretty life we would all have of it, if 
you took literally the precepts of that book and fol- 
lowed its teachers. You would soon be thinking it 
wrong to eat butter on your bread ; you would give 
away every cent you have inherited ; you would give 
up your life to the poor and miserable — ^you would 
be as fanatical as that woman over the way. You 
would not think your finger nails were your own — 
there’s enough in you of that spirit already. As soon 


44 


FOURFOLD. 


as you give up to a religion like that, you are no 
child of mine ; you may take your twenty-one years 
and go/^ 

^^0, papa/’ pleaded the soft voice of Tanzy’s 
mother. 

You would go to hospitals and prisons, you 
would go among vile sinners, you would be another 
Sister Dora, you would preach in the open streets, 
you would unsex yourself ; you wouldn’t use a tooth 
brush or wear shoes on your feet ; you would rather 

starve than have another starve ” 

don’t believe that,” interrupted Tanzy ; ^^we 
never saw anybody do that.” 

I have kept you from the knowledge of such 
people.” 

Did you ever see them ? ” she asked. 

No,” he hesitated, ^^but I have read of them. 
That woman over the way is example enough ; in 
her invalid condition, she is willing for her hus- 
band to leave her and go back to the miserable 
heathen, and he is fool enough to go. What would 
you think of your father if he should desert you 
like that ? ” 

You couldn’t, papa,” said Marigold. 

No, you couldn’t,” reiterated his wife ; that 


AMONG THEMSELVES, 


45 


man is heartless and cruel. Don^t let Tanzy read 
books about such cruel things.^^ 

‘‘ That girl we knew at Eome was not like that/^ 
said Tanzy ; ‘‘ she dressed as prettily as we do, and 
she loved pictures and music, and she bought pretty 
things, and she wore one diamond ring. She was 
so good, too ; her New Testament was open on her 
table. It did not spoil her life.’^ 

She had some one to keep her within bounds.’’ 
‘‘ You may trust me. I’ll keep myself within 
bounds,” promised Tanzy, proudly. ^^I shall buy 
the book the next time I go to the city.” 

Read it with me, and I’ll keep you within 
bounds.” Tanzy would not promise. 

He came to her side and laid his hand heavily 
upon her head. 

I have not had a son to defy me ; will my daugh-^ 
ter do it ? ” 

No sir,” was the faint, quick reply. 

What will you do, then ? ” 

^^What I think is right, papa. Please let me 
alone, that is all. I promise you I will not do any 
of those things. Did Christ do them ? ” 

What he did is nothing to you. He was the 
most perfect man ever born into the world — as Jo-» 


46 


FOURFOLD. 


sephus saysj — it be lawful to call him a man. No 
one can do as he did^ surely not a girl like you.*’ 

If he were so good he must have taught the 
truth.” 

It cannot be taken literally ; the world could 
not go on ; how could every one sell all he had and 
give to the poor ? You cannot go into the world 
and preach the gospel to every creature.” 

No, not that. But perhaps I can help. Is that 
why Mr. Kenderdine has gone ? Is that why he 
has given up everything ? Oh, isn’t it splendid ! ” 

I told you so ! ” cried the father, with more 
anger than he had hitherto spoken. I know 
what you are made of. That young fellow is 
as daft as his uncle, and is preparing to go.” 

Who told you, papa ? ” asked Marigold. 

Tanzy’s heart was beating a sob into her throat. 
And she was forbidden to know people who could 
do such brave things ! 

Lancaster. He brought me a package from 
the city last night, and I asked him about our 
neighbors. I wanted to learn if they were safe to 
know. I have decided that you are not to speak to 
them unless you cannot avoid it without rude- 


ness.' 


AMONG THEMSELVES, 


47 


^^Papa/’ began Tanzy again, are always 

travelling. Why is it any more harm to travel and 
help somebody ? We give up our home every 
year for pleasure — only they cannot come back. 
I suppose they are happier to do it.’^ 

Enough said/^ he commanded. I trust that 
you will regard my wishes. I am not afraid 
Marigold will defy me. When shall we start for 
the St. Lawrence, mamma ? his tone changing to 
playfulness. 

Say you don^t wan^t to go, mamma,’^ coaxed 
Marigold. 

DonH be naughty, Gold,^’ pleaded her mother^s 
soft voice. 

Mrs. Henderson^s gentleness held no strength. 
It was the softest thing her girls knew. 

Papa, if you hold me in so, I shall do some- 
thing dreadful, I know I shall,’^ sobbed Tanzy, 
stretching out both hands to her father, who had 
moved away, and stood facing her. I don’t know 
what is the matter with me. I have kept in so 
long, trying to be good. And now Pve got to do 
something, or I shall burst.” She ended between 
tears and laughter. 

You are tired, darling,” consoled her mother ; 


48 


FOURFOLD, 


you have been in the woods and had the long 
drive ; go right up-stairs to bed/^ 

I never minded before, because it was Sunday/^ 
sobbed Tanzy, dropping her arms and hiding her 
face in her hands ; but now I know IVe been 
wicked. Susie Hartwell talked to me about it in 
Eome, and Margaret has been at church to-day, and 
we have been so different.’’ 

I told you so,” said her father, lifting a warn- 
ing finger; ^^this is only the beginning, if you 
know such people. You will away your judgment 
and will against mine. Go to bed and sleep it 
off, and may your Sundays always be as inno- 
cent.” 

I don’t feel innocent, I feel wicked,” cried 
Tanzy, still sobbing ; and I don’t know how to be 
forgiven.” 

You do not need to be forgiven ; trust your 
father ; he has lived longer than you have. Good- 
night, little girl.” 

F eeling herself dismissed, she arose ; in an instant 
her father’s arms were about her. 

You are not in a mood to read anything ex- 
citing ; wait until you are quieter. We will go 
away and find something new. My birdlings are 


AMONG THEMSELVES, 


49 


getting wings and the old nest is too cramped for 
them. An old Buddhist hymn runs : 

She is the bearer of burdens, 

He is the dreamer of dreams.” 

I will dream some way of bearing your burdens for 
you. How much money do you want ? 

Money ! she cried, scornfully. Fve had 
money all my life. Money can^t make me strong 
and brave, money can^t forgive me. Money is hin- 
dering and choking me, and keeping me from hav- 
ing the best things. Susie Hartwell told me so, and 
I wondered how she knew, and how it could. But 
I don^t love it ; do you love it, papa ? 

I love the power it gives me,^^ he said. If you 
were a poor man’s daughter, earning your bread and 
butter, you would know the worth of it. If money 
will not satisfy you, how will love do ? Have yoii 
had that all your life, too ? ” 

Yes,” she returned, gratefully, you are too 
kind to me when I am so cross.” 

That’s all I’m good for, love and money. Draw 
your check.” 

Perhaps you haven’t enough,” she said, saucily ; 
and then the penitent lips relented and she kissed 

him good-night. 

4 


50 


FOURFOLD, 


In the moonlight the mother^s eyes had a new, 
worried expression ; she had never known Tanzy 
to talk so to her father ; she was glad Marigold 
was more content. But papa was wise, he would 
talk Tanzy into behaving. 

After a moment, Marigold lifted her head and 
said Grood-night ; her mother settled herself in 
her wide, low chair for another nap, and her father 
began again his restless tramp about the room. 

After a hesitating step that paused several times 
before a cabinet in a far corner of the room, 
and then pushed itself on, he came, at last, to a 
decided stand-still. Even then he stood for fully a 
moment irresolute, with a sharp, suspicious turning 
of the eyes towards the moonlighted, long window 
where his wife sat asleep, her face half shielded by 
the fan in her hand. His eyes melted and filled 
with large, slow tears. Every muscle in his whole 
frame seemed to weaken, and then his fingers 
grasped the small key, always in custody about 
him, and he turned it in the lock with a snap. 

Love and money, and — the curse of my life,’^ 
he thought. I did not offer her this.’^ 

After another stealthy backward glance, he 
tossed into his mouth the large pill he found in a 


AMONG THEMSELVES. 


51 


vial, snapped the key again, and with erect head 
and strengthened muscle walked away. 

‘‘ To-morrow I shall be stronger, and not wor- 
ried,’^ he promised himself. 

When his wife dropped her fan, and starting up, 
asked in a sleepy voice if it were not bed-time, he 
was stretched upon the lounge, with the blaze of 
light above his head falling upon the pages of 

The Ancient Mariner.^’ 

‘‘ Had not Coleridge been a slave, and De 
Quincy ? he asked himself, and who was he that 
he could break chains forged link after link since 
the years of his boyhood ? 

Helen, dearest, come and soothe me to sleep. 
Lend to the rhyme of the poet, the music of your 
voice. Your lullaby ought to banish even such 
dreams as mine. By-and-by I must sleep a long 
sleep, and then what dreams may come ? 

0, Ernest, do stop ! pleaded the smooth, low 
voice. ‘‘ You and Tanzy are just too dreadful to- 
night.^^ 

And she falls asleep and forgets, and I go to sleep 
and remember. Last night I was being thrown 
from that horse again. Helen, had it not been for 
that, you might have had a husband to be proud of.’’ 


52 


FOURFOLD, 


“ Not more than I am now ! she said, fondly, 
standing in the full blaze of light, a sleepy, flushed, 
pink and white little creature, crowned with 
hair as pretty as Marigold’s. A picture of pretty 
middle-age that the mild experiences of life had 
touched with softened beauty. 

Helen, you never dream, awake or asleep. 
You breathe and enjoy. I have not spoiled your 
life, my darling.” 

Her fingers were laid on his lips with a light 
laugh : You shall not talk about such things. Tanzy 
will be good to-morrow. If you were like that 
cruel husband of Mrs. Kenderdine, you would have 
spoiled my life. I should not think she would love 
him.” 

I know one thing ; I shall get Tanzy and 
Marigold away before there’s danger of their in- 
fluence. It wouldn’t take much urging for Mari- 
gold to found a hospital and Tanzy to become a 
nun.” 

^^I don’t know what makes them so,” said the 
mother of the girls, her white forehead knitting into 
a frown like Marigold’s. It is not an inheritance 
from us, is it ? ” 

Perhaps some martyr or hero in the far back 


AMONG THEMSELVES. 


53 


ages, has sent their blood throbbing down into our 
children ; grandfather was all on fire when he was 
moved. And, Helen, there^s a Grod in heaven, who 
lays his finger on us once in a while.^^ 

The blue eyes dilated with fear; she clung to 
him, afraid of that God in heaven. 

Do you say that because it is Sunday ? 

‘‘ Our Sunday is like our other days, one is as 
right and as wrong as the other. My poor mother 
used to tell me Bible stories Sunday nights, and 
show me Bible pictures. 

Not wholly can the heart unlearn 
That lesson of its better hours.” 

I remember her big Bible, Ernest — ^where is 
itr^ 

In grandfather^s study.” 

^^What did that man mean who told you your 
check book was your Bible ? That man who was 
angry when you wouldn^t give him money — in San 
Francisco.” 

0, that man ! Beggars are always mad when 
I refuse them. Don^t tell Tanzy that big Bible is in 
grandfather^s study. I don^t want her or any one 
to disturb anything in that room. His private 


54 


FOURFOLD, 


papers are as he left them ; I shall look over them 
when I am stronger.^^ 

I wish you would get strong/’ she sighed. 
Helen, I am either in an idiotic state of self- 
complacency or a savage state of irritation ; do hear 
with me.” 


IT. 

BY THEMSELVES. 

H«r soul grows as the leaves grow, 

Up to the light.^' 

Nurse ! 

Tanzy spoke twice before the drowsy figure in 
the arm-chair at the window stirred ; and then 
nurse gathered her sleepy self together, and making 
an effort, asked in a thick voice what was the mat- 
ter. 

It^s only I, nurse,’^ answered Tanzy, gently. 
^^Will you lend me your New Testament for a 
little while ? 

My New Testament ! nurse repeated, at 
this time of night! It struck eleven before I went 
to sleep. I sat here to see the moonlight, and be- 
fore I knew it, I was asleep. You don’t want it this 
time of night. Miss Tanzy.” 

Yes, I do, please,” said Tanzy, impatiently. 

( 55 ) 


56 


FOURFOLD. 


ejaculated the old woman, prolonging 
the monosyllable into two, then I suppose you must. 
But I hadn^t unpacked it yet. I keep it in a safe 
place, because it^s got in it all the family record I 
ever had ; my father’s death and my mother’s, and 
my marriage, and my poor husband’s death two 
years after, and the date that my poor little Billy 
was hurt and died ; and I want you to put my death 
day in it. I feel somehow as if that makes us all 
safe, somewhere.” 

Will it trouble you very much to find it for me? 
I am blue, or something else, to-night, and I can’t 
go to sleep until I have it. Papa has a Bible among 
his books, but I could not search without disturbing 
him ; I would like very much to have yours,” said 
Tanzy, with the sound of tears in her voice. 

Bless your dear heart ! you shall have it if I 
have to turn all my goods upside down. I think 
it’s in the little black leather trunk. And if it isn’t 
there, it’s in a drawer somewhere. IPs the very 
same one that I read to your poor grandfather in the 
night before he gave me that letter. I read about 
Zach — something, a little man.” 

Nurse was a tail, spare old woman ; the flash of 
her lamp as she lighted it, revealed blue eyes deeply 


BV THEAfSELVES, 


57 


sunken, a sharp nose, hard cheeks, colored with a 
cold, smooth red, and puckered lips her iron-gray 
hair was as smooth as satin, and fastened in a tight 
little knot at the back of her head. 

There was nothing lovely about nurse, excepting 
her devotion to the two girls she had loved twenty- 
one years. 

Tanzy waited while she dropped on her knees be- 
fore the leather trunk, holding the lamp as she dived 
into one corner and then into another. After some 
mumbling and grumbling, she drew out a large, 
leather-covered volume, and held it up ,^to the light. 

That^s it. Don^t let it get hurt. It^s good, big 
print, so I can read it when I get old. I shall need 
to read it then, for everybody has got to be pre- 
pared when their time comes.^^ 

‘‘ Thank you, nurse,’’ said Tanzy, gratefully. ‘‘ I 
am so glad to have it. I think my time has come 
now.” 

Nurse smoothed carefully her tumbled goods,” 
repeating her injunction to be careful, for money 
could not buy that book, and twice money could 
not replace it. 

Tanzy waited till the black leather lid was dropped, 
extinguished the lamp, that nurse might be left in 


58 


FOURFOLD. 


the moonlight, and then with her soft lips touched 
the hard red of the old cheek. 

Nurse blessed the child in her heart ; she was 
not given to the demonstration of spoken words. 

I have it ! cried Tanzy, joyfully, hastening 
back to Marigold. 

Marigold was sitting on the side of her own small 
bed, her hair braided for the night in two long 
braids ; in a loose blue wrapper, with her feet in 
pink bed-room slippers. 

And now you will keep me up till daylight, 
she pouted. 

Only a little while. Lie down if you are 
sleepy, and I will read to you.^^ 

Cuddling down among the pillows. Marigold 
drew her pink feet upon the white coverlid. She 
liked nothing better than to have Tanzy read her 
to sleep. 

The narrow, white beds were not far apart. 
Tanzy seated herself upon the foot of her bed, 
bracing herself against the low foot-board. The 
light from the lamp against the wall fell on 
the words in large type, as she opened the book : 

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO 

ST. MARK. 


BY THEMSELVES, 


59 


^^0, Marigold, this is just what I want! The 
heginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want 
the very beginning, and I want it all. We can 
begin all over again. I want to stay here, and be 
quiet, and begin.” 

You are always beginning,” said Marigold. 

Not the real beginning, like this. Now listen, 
and don^t get sleepy.” 

‘ The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the 

Son of God ’ How do you suppose he was 

God^s Son ? ” 

I don^t know,” said Marigold, indifferently. 

^^But I want to know. I must know, if it 
can be known. Perhaps it goes on to tell. I 
want to talk about each new fact, and new 
thought ” 

“ Then you will talk about it all : for it^s all 
new.” 

So much the better. Just think of finding 
something all new and thaPs worth while ! Some- 
thing we can do.” 

There^s nothing in that to do.” 

Yes, there is.” 

''What?” 

Tanzy pondered. 


60 


FOURFOLD. 


To learn what the beginning is, and how he 
was God^s Son.^^ 

That’s learning, not doing,” said Marigold, 
provokingly. 

We have to learn before we can do.” 

^^But I thought you wanted to do, immedi- 
ately.” 

am doing now. Isn’t learning one kind of 
doing ? ” 

It isn’t the kind I like.” 

Then I will like it, and tell you. Don’t you 
like this ? ” 

^^I don’t see anything to like.” 

Don’t you like to have Jesus Christ the Son 
of God?” 

Well, to be frank, not particularly. What 
difference does it make to us ? ” 

Again Tanzy pondered before she could reply. 
She felt that it made a difference to her. 

It seems to me that is the first thing to learn. 
We always want to know who a person is. That 
is always papa’s first question. He is very proud 
of saying that he is the grandson of Nicholson, the 
iron man. And if we know who Jesus Christ is, 
we know if he has a right to teach us, and we 


BV THEMSELVES. 


61 


know what he can teach us about. If he is God^s 
Son, he knows about God. DonH you care for 
that ? 

No ; I do not think I do — to-night/^ was the 
candid acknowledgment. I don^t care for new 
things as much as you dov’^ 

This is more than that.^^ 

How is it more ? 

If you don’t know, I don’t know how to tell 
you. Don’t you want to be forgiven ? ” 

What for ? ” 

The wrong things you do.” 

“ Papa says I don’t do any. He told me to-day 
that I was as innocent as a bird, and my life, if I 
were happy, as grateful, as beautiful as a bird’s 
life ; and that the Maker of all was as glad of me 
as of the birds.” 

^^I hope he is more glad of me. But I do not 
believe all that. I do not believe you and I are as 
innocent as the birds. I know I do wrong things. 
I do more than you do. I Tcnow I am wicked,” 
she repeated. I am often ashamed of myself. 
I am ashamed of what I have done to-day. I 
do not believe Margaret feels sorry and ashamed 
to-night.” 


62 


FOURFOLD. 


Marigold was either too sleepy or too indifferent 
to reply. Tanzy began to read again, making no 
comment. 

She read wonderful things : This same Jesus 
Christ, God’s Son, saw the heavens opened, and 
the Spirit, like a dove, came down and lighted on 
him, and he heard a voice, speaking from heaven, 
saying. Thou art my beloved Son. 

Then Tanzy had to speak. 0, Marigold, that’s 
how he knew he was the Son of God. God spoke 
down out of heaven and told him.” 

Marigold was becoming interested. 

And then more wonderful still : The Spirit that 
was on him like a dove drove him into the wilder- 
ness, and forty days Satan tempted him, and the 
wild beasts were there. He was alone with Satan 
and the wild beasts ; and then, after being tempted 
such a long time, the angels came and ministered 
unto him. 

Perhaps the angels told him he was God’s 
Son, too. Wasn’t that something to go through ? 
If he knew he was God’s Son, he couldn’t be 
afraid of Satan.” 

Fully awake. Marigold listened with wide-awake 
eyes. 


T//£MS£Lf^£S. 


63 


And after that he preached the gospel, and told 
people to repent and believe. 

It makes it so much easier to believe if we are 
sorry and ashamed first/^ said Tanzy. We have 
got to be comforted somehow, and Grod^s Son can 
tell us how. I do believe he knows how to tell 
us, and I know there^s something to tell. God 
wouldn’t let us get so hungry for something that 
isn’t.” 

And then as Jesus walked by the sea, he saw 
two brothers, and he spoke to them, and bade 
them go with him. And then he went a little further, 
and saw two other brothers, and he called them to 
go with him. 

^^I’m glad there were two,” said Marigold, ^^and 
he called both. It would have been hard for one 
to go without the other. I couldn’t go anywhere, 
and leave you, Tan.” 

Tanzy’s eyes were on the page. 

But they left their father.” 

''Bead it.” 

Tanzy read it : 

^ They left their father in the ship with the 
hired servants, and went after him.’ I should 
think they would. He was God’s Son.” 


64 


FOURFOLD, 


I wonder if they had a mother, too ? said 
Marigold. I wonder if they went far.^^ 

It says they went unto Capernaum — that must 
have been another place. Their father did not 
keep them back. I wonder what papa would say 
to this I 

^^He would say they were men, and could 
do as they pleased. We are only girls. And we 
cavUt go with him now, Tan.’^ 

No,^^ said Tanzy sadly, I wish we could.^^ 
Let’s don’t read it if it makes you unhappy ; it 
is only a story.” 

But it is a true story ; it is real. And Jesus is 
God’s Son, now in Heaven ; you know he died on 
a cross, and that’s why all Europe is so full of cross- 
es ; and Susie Hartwell said she prayed to him and 
he heard her, and he answered her.” 

How can he if he is dead ? ” 

He isn’t dead — he is alive in Heaven.” 

But papa says God never does change his mind, 
and only selfish and ungrateful and rebellious peo- 
ple ask him to — and it doesn’t do any good, either.” 
Marigold’s tone was more helpless than usual. So 
many things did no good. 

Papa doesn’t know ; he hasn’t tried. How can 


BV THEMSELVES. 


65 


anybody know unless they try ? I want to try for 
myself. Jesus Christ knows all about it, and Susie 
said he told people to pray, and said they would be 
sure to get answers. Wouldn^t you rather believe 
him than father ? 

Yes,’^ admitted Marigold, if I were sure he 
promised it.” 

‘‘ We can be sure. That’s what I want the New 
Testament for — to be sure. It must be right to 
leave your father if he calls you.” 

But he doesn’t ask us to go away from father. 
He cannot speak to us now.” 

^^We are leaving father — he feels that I am 
leaving him, and I feel that I am leaving him, if we 
choose to obey Jesus Christ instead.” 

^^But father does not contradict him in every-f 
thing,” said Marigold, lovingly clinging to her father. 

You heard what he said to-night. He said my 
life would be changed in everything.” 

That is if you took his teaching literally.” 

These brothers understood him literally ; they 
literally left their father, and went with him.” 

Perhaps their father was willing.” 

They would have gone just the same if he hadn’t 

been willing ; I know they would.” 

5 


66 


FOURFOLD, 


Because God^s Son called them. Don’t you see 
who it is makes all the difference.” 

Perhaps they did not know about the Spirit — I 
do not understand that, at all ; or about the tempta- 
tion, and the angels.” 

^^But he preached the gospel of the kingdom of 
God. He told them everything in that. He knew 
all about God’s kingdom. And he told them to re- 
pent and believe.” 

Perhaps one of the brothers was like me and 
did not know what to repent of - and perhaps one 
was like you and knew,” said Marigold. 

He could tell them ; he could tell them every- 
thing. I wish I could ask him questions. But per- 
haps they did, and I can find his answers. 0, Mari- 
gold, how long we have lived without knowing ! ” 

Papa would not let us know ; He would not like 
this now.” 

I should not think he would ; he knows it will 
separate us from him, and that he will not be our 
authority any longer. I think — ” speaking low and 
impressively, ^Ghat is one reason he gives us our lib- 
erty; he fears that we shall learn and believe what the 
New Testament teaches ; he told me once never to 


BY THEMSELVES. 


67 


speak, never to listen if anybody tried to convince 
me to the contrary of anything he had taught me. 
I was afraid I was wrong to listen to Susie Hartwell ; 
but it rested me when I was so tired of everything 
that time in Rome ; he was angry when I told him 
what we used to talk about, and said it proved there 
was danger for us lurking everywhere. He said he 
had read the Bible, and if it were a wise and good 
book for his children he was competent to judge, and 
would he keep any good thing from us, — did he not 
love us as well as any stranger we might chance to 
meet ? He said such people built churches and hos- 
pitals and sent missionaries to the uncivilized, and 
were always seeking to find people who had money; 
that they did not care for me, but for my money. 
And that English lady in Florence did ask him for 
five hundred dollars for an Orphan Home and made 
him very angry. He never gives money away. 
Mamma was sorry for the orphans, but he told her the 
orphans would not have the benefit of half of it. Papa 
is not only guarding us, but our money. He says 
people cannot help understanding that he has money, 
and that his daughters will inherit it. We must be 
a great care. Marigold.’^ 

“ Yes,” said Marigold, lightly. IPs a pity he 


68 


FOURFOLD. 


cannot shut us up and keep us away from the 
wolves. After that Frenchman asked him if he 
might give you some token of his distinguished re- 
gard, I don’t wonder he was frightened.” 

And that American that wanted to take you out 
on the lake ! ” laughed Tanzy. Poor papa ! If 
his girls had only been boys.” 

But these brothers were called,” said Marigold, 
with unusual thoughtfulness, and they left their 
father.” 

^^Poor papa,” said Tanzy tenderly, ^^we will nev- 
er leave him.” 

Long after she lay down and closed her eyes, Tan- 
zy’s thoughts were awake. 

Marigold fell easily asleep ; she was not the pio- 
neer ; all she had to do was to follow Tanzy. 


V. 


THAT OTHER WORLD. 

Patience is tlie truest sign of courage.’^ 

That same evening, while Tanzy was in her state 
of rebellion, over the way in the small parlor open- 
ing with its long low windows upon the piazza, half 
indoors and half out, Mark Kenderdine moved about, 
with a word now and then to the girl reading at the 
table, and a word now and then to the lady reclin- 
ing in the steamer chair. 

The last words to the lady was a quotation from 
Lowell : ^ June is the pearl of our New England 

year.^ 

But we are not in New England, as it happens,^^ 
said the girl at the table. 

It’s the pearl, just the same,” answered the 
young man, and if you had not interrupted, I 
should have gone on with the quotation.” 

I don’t believe you know the rest ; you never 
knew the rest in your life.” 


( 69 ) 


70 


FOURFOLD. 


If you will keep quiet sufficiently long;, I wiD 
prove it to you. 

“ ‘Alas, the May 
Goes out to-day — 

But June comes in to-morrow/ ” 

he continued, seriously. 

I don’t love poetry, but I know when you mis- 
quote, — even when you supplement Shakespeare 
with lines of your own. Those girls over the way 
read acres of poetry.” 

How do you know ? ” 

Their nurse told Eachel ; she has an affinity for 
her ; I have had to forbid her to repeat to me what 
the gossiping old woman tells her.” 

Probably Eachel has gossiped in return.” 

There’s so little to tell about us ; but the Hen- 
derson narrative is endless. Their riches, their 
travels, their learning, their devotion to each 
other — ” 

You do not seem to have stopped your reporter 
in the first chapter of her story.” 

I’m afraid I did not ; I was too interested ; es- 
pecially when I gathered enough to know they are 
the girls poor Susie knew at Eome. How delighted- 
ly she wrote about them ! ” 


THAT OTHER WORLD. 


71 


How long have you known that ? 

From ten to seventeen minutes. Eachel told 
me when I went out for mother’s iced milk.” 

Then they are somebody we must know.” 

I do not intend to thrust myself upon them,” 
said Margaret proudly; ^^we have been neighbors a 
month, and they have not given us a word.” 

That tall dark one is superb.” 

And the little fair one delicious,” she said, mim- 
icking his enthusiasm. 

They look rather discontented, though ; the 
gray eyes have a hungry look in them, and the blue 
eyes can be fretful. I had a full glance from both 
this afternoon as they passed me in driving ; they 
did not stare, they were simply curious ; and I 
chanced to look at them as they chanced to look at me. 
I would like to give them something to put energy 
into them.” 

The voice from the steamer chair spoke with 
sweet and grave assurance : The children in the 
desert were suffered to hunger and were then fed 
with manna.” 

If what Phil says is true. I’d like to know where 
their manna is to come from. Augustus Hare saw 
the funerals of fourteen children who were poisoned 


72 


FOURFOLD. 


with eating herbs in the time of famine. In their 
time of famine what have they but poisoned herbs ? 
God has his manna, just the same.^^ 

I wish I could pick up some of it for them,^’ said 
Margaret, in her mother^s eager voice. They had 
manna while they had Susie.^’ 

They will have more of it if they can have you, 
Aunt May,’^ said Mark. 

But I do not see how they can have her,^^ said 
Margaret. Rachel says they are getting ready to 
start off again. The coachman and his wife — she is 
cook — stay here the year round, and the old nurse 
travels with them. The girls are coaxing to stay 
here this summer; but the father is ^a strong-willed 
man,^ and always has his way.^’ 

I wish I could steal the father, put the mother 
into a nursery and give her a rattle, burn the house 
down, sink all the money, and give the girls a 
chance to do something for themselves. They 
travel over the world and have no idea what the 
world is like ; and do nothing for it but to be 
beautiful in it.^^ 

Half to herself Mrs. Kenderdine said : He open- 
eth his hand and satisfieth the desire of every living 
thing.’ ” 


THAT OTHER WORLD, 


73 


They sing like the birds. Phil and I caught 
a song last night as we sat on his piazza ; they have 
had the finest teachers, he says. Do drop some 
crumbs and decoy them over.’^ 

Perhaps the mother will prick her finger and 
send for you to bind it up, Mark,^’ suggested Mar- 
garet 5 but they may not have noticed your new 
sign.^^ 

Their voices are natural, and yet perfectly 
trained ; there is something very natural about them 
both ; in their white dresses to-day, they might 
have been two girls who had never been outside of 
this country village ; they look as though they 
never sat up till ten o’clock at night. Their father 
has kept them very young. Phil says he keeps as 
tight a grip on his money as though he earned it 
breaking stones. I wish we could get those girls 
out of his clutches.” 

That’s a knightly wish,” laughed Margaret ; 
bear them away on the wings of the wind.” 

If they are the girls Susie was interested in, I 
shall certainly do something, for her sake.” 

The lightness died from Margaret’s lips. Susie 
Hartwell had promised to be Mark’s wife ; she had 
been the blessing in his life to turn him to thoughts 


74 


FOURFOLD. 


of giving his life to the service of men. The wed- 
ding day was to have been in this month of June, 
and to-day was its first anniversary. 

Yes, dear,’^ assented Mrs. Kenderdine, out of 
her sympathetic heart. Her face had a withered 
look in the softening and brightening of the lamp 
light. Her hair had grown very white since the day 
her husband sailed three years ago ; the nervous 
strain was so tense, that for many weeks she did 
not walk across her room ; but not a word of it was 
breathed in her weekly letters ; with renewed faith 
and hope, came renewed physical strength ; her 
physician believed that she might, with the wisest 
care, live to see her husband return in the promised 
ten years. 

Every week her journal-letter was written to him, 
and every week, usually on Saturday night, his long 
letter was put into her hand. Every waking hour 
her thought of him was given to the Father whom 
both loved better than they loved each other ; even 
in her sleep she prayed for him. Agnes, the elder 
daughter, was her father’s housekeeper and helper 
in his work, and Margaret was her mother’s nurse 
and dearest friend. 

Last night I saw your father’s face as plainly as 


TIfAT OTHER WORLD, 


75 


I see youi^s^ Margaret ; he had a crowd about him 
and was singing hymns ; and then I saw him again 
writing in his study ; he turned to speak to me and 
I awoke. I wish he might have spoken/^ she said, 
patiently. 

O, mother, when before you went to sleep you 
had sixteen pages of his speaking,^^ said Margaret, 
playfully ; and to think of Agnes being taken for 
his young wife by the new Collector. Their time 
at the hills is about over. Oh, for those hills, mother, 
I sigh for my native land.^^ 

You will go back some day, dear.^^ 

Yes,’^ said Margaret, whose heart was in her 
father^s work. 

Margaret was a little creature, as small of stature 
as Tanzy^s mother, and more slight ; her yellow- 
brown eyes, the faintest shade of yellow-brown, un- 
til they glowed darker in her earnestness, pale yel- 
low-brown fluffy hair brushed away from a forehead 
too high for beauty ; a complexion so delicate that 
the color flushed her cheek with hurried motion or a 
quick word, a large, winning mouth, with handsome 
teeth, with pretty outline of cheek and chin, and the 
small head well set upon the sloping shoulders ; a 
voice clear like her mo therms with a world of enthu- 


76 


FOURFOLD. 


siasm in it ; her small thin hands were rarely quiet. 

Her mother gauged her moods by the restlessness 
or stillness of her fingers. 

She wants to be loved all the time, her mother 
wrote to her father that day, but by-and-by she 
will learn that loving is better than being loved.^^ 

The cousin who stood beside her looking down at 
the page she brought her eyes back to was cousin’^ 
only by courtesy and kindliness, he being the adopt- 
ed son of a cousin of her father. Mark is the color 
of me, only several shades darker,^’ she told her 
mother, when she gave her impression of him after 
their first meeting, at the time of her coming to 
America. He was twenty, and she was seventeen, 
and that was five years ago. 

His frank, smiling, light-hearted eyes had chang- 
ed into deep seriousness since then ; they were dark 
and shining like his hair ; the color in his cheeks since 
he came into the country was as rich as a girFs ; his 
moustache did not conceal the redness of his lips ; the 
smooth cheek and round chin gave a touch of 
beauty to the face that was almost womanly. Philip 
Lancaster said Mark Kenderdine was as delicious as 
the sunny side of a peach. But then Philip had a 
girlish way of talking, and he and Mark had been 


THAT OTHER WORLD. 


77 


chums in school and college. He was one of those 
people whom you could not but care to have in the 
room with you ; his cousin Margaret cared very 
much that he should he in the room with her. 

Mother, I must take you up to dream-land/^ 
said Margaret, putting aside her book, a work on 
India that Mark had brought to her last night. 
That night in her dream Margaret^s mother was 
holding the hand of a heathen woman, and telling 
her how Jesus on the cross loved his mother : and 
the mother of Marigold and Tanzy awoke with a cry 
because Tanzy^s kitten scratched her work and 
snatched out a thread of gold silk in its teeth. 


VI. 


SOMETHING GAINED. 

But then, she was a real princess, you see.” 

Marigold sketched another figure on the canvas, 
into which her mother would put the enthusiasm 
and energy of her whole being for half a day. She 
had conceived the idea of painting in silks, and Mari- 
gold copied from a large oil painting that her 
mother^s father had purchased in Florence for his 
only little daughter's birthday, when that only little 
daughter was two years old. The view was the in- 
terior of a church, and the attractive part to Mrs. 
Kenderdine had always been the altar and the 
arches ; Marigold cared more for the kneeling wor- 
shippers, the old man, the child, the maiden, and it 
was the maiden she had sketched this morning. The 
girl reminded her of Margaret. When she was a 
child, she called her The little princess.^^ The 

finest canvas had been procured for her work, and 
( 78 ) 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


79 


a village carpenter had stretched it upon a frame, 
and mounted it upon a rude easel. 

‘‘ Helen, it can never be done/^ her husband ex- 
postulated, while Marigold was sketching, but the 
altar had been successfully finished, and a part of a 
painted window ; you will stretch your arms out 
of their sockets, you will blind your eyes, you will 
break your back.^^ 

You will see,” she said confidently ; the very 
worst of it is matching the silks. Tanzy is all tired 
out with that and was real cross about it this morn- 
ing.” 

I forgot to add that you will estrange your hus- 
band and alienate your children.” 

Oh no,” was the contented answer, just look 
at the colors in that window. YouVe often said I 
have a genius for fancy work, and this is genius, for 
I thought of it all myself.” 

But you didn^t do it all yourself.” 

^^Don^t be disagreeable, Ernest; you know I 
can^t draw as correctly as Gold does.” 

And then to restrain himself from being further 
disagreeable, Ernest took his morning paper out on 
the piazza and found Tanzy there with Nurse^s New 
Testament in her hand. Without noticing the 


80 


FOURFOLD. 


book, he opened his paper and hid himself behind 
it. Marigold appeared presently and drew a rustic 
chair to her sister’s side ; she did not look over 
her sister’s book as she had a way of doing, but sat 
twirling her pencil. 

Tan,” said her father, in an easy, familiar voice, 
‘‘ would you like to be like Miss Burney, lady’s 
maid to a queen ? ” 

The newspaper rustled to the floor of the piazza ; 
he spent little time over the news of the day. The 
history he preferred was centuries older than yester- 
day’s news. Philip Lancaster said the dried-up, 
restless little being was a fossil himself, and must 
belong to pre-historic man, and that he was glad he 
was the only specimen he had seen. 

I would,” said Marigold ; I’ve always wanted 
to be a princess.” 

The maid is not the princess,” said Tanzy, clos- 
ing her book with a long breath. 

The long breath was a sigh of delight, for the 
story of the life of Jesus Christ exceeded in won- 
derfulness everything she had ever dreamed ; it was 
so wonderful, and filled her so full of enthusiasm, 
that she could not read long at a time ; it was dreary 
to come back to Miss Burney and princesses. 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


81 


Papa/^ began Marigold, coaxingly, couldn^t 
you let us start out together and see what would 
happen to us ? Mary Ann had a book from the 
Sunday-school, and Tan and I read it ; the girl was 
rich or had been, and lost her money, and she went 
into a kitchen as a kitchen maid, and did faithful 
work. One day the piano tempted her, and she sat 
down and played and astonished her mistress greatly. 
She was like us, or like Tan, rather, so pretty and 
a lady, and she called herself, or somebody called 
her, a king’s daughter ; the idea was that she was 
so lovely that she was the daughter of Grod, the king 
of all the kings. I liked it so much, for she made a 
lovely princess, doing lovely work.” 

That is only a story ; it is not fit for Mary Ann 
to read,” exclaimed her father, with an expression 
of strong disapprobation. 

Nurse liked it, too. It was not only the 
story ; it made you care to be that kind of a 
princess.” 

‘‘ A princess doing kitchen work ! That’s where 
Tan got more of her ideas. If Mary Ann can bring 
no better books home she shall stay from Sunday- 
school ; or you shall be too real ladies to borrow 

reading matter from a servant.” 

6 


82 


FOURFOLD. 


Papa/^ cried Tanzy^ in distress^ we cannot 
please you now-a-days.’^ 

You do not please me when you go to the ser- 
vants for reading matter ; that book you hold in your 
hand belongs to Nurse, T see.’^ 

There is no book store in Mansfield j but I can go 
to the city. O, papa, I wish you would let us drive 
alone in a dog- cart like those two girls we saw last 
week. We see girls driving alone everywhere.^^ 
Then you would like a footman, I suppose. Do 
you think I am made of money ? 

Yes,^^ laughed Marigold, ^^we know you are; 
and we are made of a little.^^ 

I am saving it for my daughters ; I do not be- 
lieve in ostentation ; it is my taste to live and drive 
quietly ; our two horses are fine, our carriages are 
handsome ; your mother never drove in a dog-cart 
alone.^^ 

But she had no sister, said Marigold, eagerly. 

^^No sister to give her ideas,^^ he answered, 
sternly. 

When mamma was young she had other things,’’ 
decided Tanzy, and the world is growing, and we 
want to grow with it. Mamma had her little child- 
ren 


SOMETHING GAINED, 


83 


You have your father and mother/^ 

Tanzy’s lips shut angry words in. 

What ails you both I I keep you from dan- 
gerous people, and you find dangerous books.’^ 

You cannot keep us from ourselves/^ was Tan- 
zy’s defiant reply ; rather, it would have been de- 
fiant but for its solemn truthfulness. I think God 
must have put something in us when he made us 
that he wanted us to do, and we are restless unless 
we do it, or have it. You glorify nature, papa ; 
recognize the nature in us.^’ 

I recognize original sin in you.^^ 

I feel it in me,^^ assented Tanzy, but it is not 
that this time ; it is something right to do.^^ 

Allow me to judge, he returned coldly and 
courteously. 

No, sir,^^ muttered Tanzy^s compressed lips. 

Papa,^’ speaking aloud, when the brothers in the 
New Testament were called, they left their father 
and followed Jesus Christ.’^ 

‘‘ They were grown men,’^ he evaded. 

Aren^t we grown women ? asked Tanzy, with a 
kindling eye and a proud flush. 

A grown woman is not a grown man.^^ 

In this thing she is just the same. Papa, I don^t 


84 


FOURFOLD, 


want to vote or to have a man’s rights, I only want 
to have the right a woman has when she believes 
the New Testament.” 

I told you that would be the end of your New 
Testament reading ; are you sure your father knows 
what he is talking about ? I know this world pret- 
ty thoroughly.” 

Papa,” — Tanzy arose and stood with Nurse’s 
book pressed between her hands, — did you ever 
know — in all your life — one religious person ? ” 

No,” was the sharp, quick reply, and I hope I 
never shall. My mother was not religious — she never 
took me to church, and she never did outlandish 
things ; once in a while she told me stories out of the 
Bible, but that was like old heroes to me, it was 
not what you would call religious — ^you mean fanati- 
cism. If you knew to-day any beggar had a claim 
to your money you would give it all up ; you would 
refuse to eat bread bought with mine, if you believed 
the man lived who had a better right to it — a better 
right, although there was nothing legal about it ; you 
are not to be trusted. Louise Henderson, when 
you become such an enthusiast, your father’s money 
shall not be willed to you for you to make a fool of 
yourself with.” 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


85 


You say that I am already that, papa.^’ 
you know that you are ? 

I know that I would choke if I ate bread bought 
with money I had no right 

Don^t worry your tender and just nature ; your 
money and your father^s money you came by hon- 
estly 

What made you say that ? she asked with a 
quick, anxious, suspicious look. 

It came into my head ; perhaps I dreamed it,’^ 
he answered lightly, ^^you see the poetical side of 
justice. There^s a bread and butter side.^^ 

That^s the side I wish to see. Papa, is not the 
New Testament practical ? 

‘‘ What did those fishermen gain, who left their 
father ? 

They gained being the friends and disciples of 
Jesus Christ, the Son of God.’’ 

Do you know how they died ?” 

I have not come to that.” 

When you come to it you may be cured of your 
enthusiasm. I’ll let you read on. Marigold, do you 
want to read about Miss Burney ? ” 

No, papa, I’d rather be the princess myself.” 

Since old Chaucer’s time, women love most the 


86 


FOURFOLD, 


mastery. Get Chaucer, then, and Til read to 
you/^ 

Papa, please,’^ — Marigold spoke with pretty en- 
treaty, it^s so warm, and I^m tired of Chaucer.’^ 

Get Shakespeare, then ; we will have ‘ The 
Merchant of Venice.’ ” 

I’m tired of Shakespeare. I’m tired of old things 
and old books,” with a pout that the light in her 
eyes contradicted. 

Even of your old father,” he said, pathetically. 

Old, with not a gray hair in your black head,” 
cried Marigold, merrily. 

Drive, then ! Shall we go again to the old mill ? 
That’s a quaint old affair, with its dried stream, and 
silent, mossy wheel 5 we will take lunch, and you 
shall sketch. Tanzy shall take her book and read to 
^ me, and mamma shall find new shades of silks in the 
sky and the fields and the moss, and the dead, damp 
things.” 

If we can take Margaret,” exclaimed Tanzy, as 
the suggestion came to her, ^^they have no horses.” 

Wouldn’t you like to be introduced first ? ” asked 
her father, in his tone of courteous sarcasm. 

I’ll go over and introduce myself ; Gold shall 
tell her that she is like her princess, and I’ll tell her 


SOMETHING GAINED, 


87 


that she is like my friend in Eome ; therefore we 
know her, and she will soon know us.^^ 

That is the kind of wild things you would do/’ 
said her father, with restrained impatience. You 
will never know the ways of the world.” 

Oh, we are going to make ways for our world,” 
said Tanzy. 

What way would you like to make this morning?” 

Oh, I know,” pressing the book hard in her ex- 
citement, I’d have a dog cart and two gray horses, 
and Gold and I would take Margaret to the old mill, 
and we’d find a nook, cool and green, and we would 
—talk.” 

About what ? ” he asked, not restraining his im- 
patience this time. 

About all she knows and does.” 

Simply child’s talks ! ” he exclaimed, contempt- 
uously. 

Then what is the harm of it ? ” asked Marigold, 
coming to her sister’s rescue, as she always did at 
last. 

Harm might come of it ; there’s harm in new 
ideas to susceptible, unreasoning, impulsive girls. 
No, little girls, under papa’s wing is the safest 
shelter.” 


88 


FOURFOLD. 


a place to suffocate/^ cried Tanzy^ unguard- 
edly. 0, papa, if it^s your money that keeps us 
back, I hate it ; if it is old ideas, I hate them. But 
the New Testament is old.^^ 

The New Testament is well enough in itself ; it^s 
the grandest book ever written, all the world knows ; 
it is your interpretation I am afraid of for you 5 let 
me read it to you and give you the true significance * 
in the light of progress since.’^ 

Papa, I like to read it by ourselves,^’ said Tanzy, 
in meek appeal. 

In the kitchen with the maid who washes dishes, 
you learn rebellion ; to Nurse^s room you go for a 
forbidden book; and you would know seemingly 
harmless, but entirely dangerous neighbors. It is 
in the very air you breathe : how can I keep you 
from contagion ? ’’ he exclaimed, tragically throw- 
ing up his arms. 

We know ourselves what is true,^^ was Tanzy’s 
quiet answer. 

So Eve thought in Eden.^^ 

I do not believe she was impatient of restraint, 
and restless because of something within urging her 
to do something different. How can people but be 
tired of one kind of life ; one year is just like an- 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


89 


other; all the difference is the places, and after 
awhile one place alwaj^s reminds me of another. I 
know I shall not get tired of people, and work. It is 
queer, but I want to work ; I would like to be like Mary 
Ann and do her work. That day she had head- 
ache last week, I did all her work, and it was the 
best fun I ever had. Nurse waited at table, but I 
did all the rest. And I long to live in the houses 
we pass; not the handsome ones, I am tired of hand- 
some houses, but in that old brown farm house we 
saw yesterday near the mill. I know that girl on 
the piazza sews and cooks, and sets the table, and 
feeds the little chickens, and perhaps she hangs out 
the clothes. And she goes to church and sits in a 
high-backed pew, and sings in that queer, wild, loud 
way ; but the Simday-school is best, for she teaches 
little girls and gets that kind of story book. I long 
for little girls to hold and talk to and sing to. Susie’s 
little sister made my heart ache for a little sister.” 

Louise!” 

Her father was seriously displeased. Marigold’s 
eyes filled with startled tears; she sprang up 
and put her arms about her sister ; was not Tanzy 
her little sister ? 

‘‘ You are imgrateful ; rebellion is born of ingra- 


90 


FOURFOLD. 


titude ; the Merciful Father has given you a home 
that would satisfy the most loving heart and most re- 
fined taste, and you trample it under your feet ; you 
defy your father, you have a contempt for the mother 
that bore you ; some heavy judgment will befall you. 
I have sought with the utmost watchfulness to keep 
you from being spoiled by worldliness and from be- 
ing touched by religious fanaticism ; but the taint 
is in your blood, you find opportunities everywhere. 
If it would not rend my heart, I would let you go 
and learn what the world is like. You would throw 
away your money, like the Prodigal Son,^^ — ^his ideas 
were somewhat mixed, but the girls did not per- 
ceive it, — and then come home for forgive- 
ness.^^ 

I do not wish to go away, papa,^^ said Tanzy, 
unmoved. I only ask more freedom to do what I 
am learning is right.^^ 

Who makes you wiser than your father ? 

If I am wrong, let me learn that I am wrong. 
Your experience may be too dearly bought.’^ 
You might end by being a hermit like the old 
man in the woods, cried Marigold, relieved that 
her father’s anger had spent itself in fine phrases. 

Oh, papa. Nurse said Mrs. Kenderdine’s maid told 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


91 


her there is an old man in an old house in the 
woods — 

A crooked little man in a crooked little house/^ 
interrupted Tanzy^ who collects pebbles, and 
believes they are money. Somebody has cheated 
him, and he has lost that part of his mind, and he 
has thousands of them — ^and hoards them, and is 
afraid of thieves. The people in the village are 
kind to him, and sell him things for his pebbles. 
May we go with Nurse to see him ? We never saw 
a real hermit before.^^ 

And Mrs. Kenderdine^s maid,’^ said her father, 
mockingly. 

If you do not trust us to go alone,^^ returned 
Tanzy, with dignity, what can you expect but 
that we should ask for an escort ? 

Your father might be a safe escort.^^ 

But you do not like poor people,^^ apologized 
Marigold; you say people are always imagining 
themselves cheated, out of envy.^^ 

So they are,^^ he answered, his dark face paling 
visibly, and his lips twitching, ‘‘ and they are no 
kind of people for you to see.’^ 

Stooping with an effort, he reached for his news- 
paper, and crushed it in his hand as he walked away. 


92 


FOURFOLD, 


Tan^ we do not gain anything/^ said Marigold, 
hopelessly, keeping her arms about her sister; we 
might as well be princesses, and never have our 
own way ; what would you do if papa should choose 
a husband for you ? 

Rebel;' 

But it wouldn't do any good." 

Every breath of it does good. Can you not 
see how papa is thinking ? All I wish is for him to 
think ; I'll do all the doing. Has he not given his 
permission for us to read the New Testament by 
ourselves ? " 

Hardly given 

Well, I have it just the same. I do not enjoy 
rebelling; but I must do what I feel is right. Goldie, 
we must do right for his sake, too." 

O, Tan, I'm not as far as that ; I'm not far in 
anything ; but I do want to visit the hermit, and 
take Margaret to the mill." 

Before a week we will do both," was the confi- 
dent answer, papa loves us so ! When he finds 
we do not get into danger by having our own way, 
he will be glad of our good times." 

He doesn't have many of his own ; he told 
mamma this morning that he was born melancholy." 


SOMETHING GAINED. 


93 


^^And she was born cheerful, he said/’ Tanzy 
continued, as arm-in-arm they stepped down to the 
lawn. 

^^Papa used to say you always had your own 
way,” said Marigold, as they sauntered down a shrub- 
bery path together. 

Because I did not ask for things I wanted most,” 
Tanzy burst out. I tried so hard to be contented ; 
TVe tried so hard to be like Susie Hartwell; she 
was a real princess, a daughter of the King ; but I 
could not learn her way, and now that I have her 
book, I do not see any way excepting to do as far 
and as quickly as I know, and that will kill papa. 
Or kill me,” she added, gravely. 

0, Tan, it’s dreadful hard for me, between you 
and papa. I do not know what to think. I am tired 
of things, but not the way you are. I only want to 
be happier ; and you want to be good.” 

And happier, too,” corrected Tanzy ; I suspect 
I like my own way,” she added, with her usual can- 
dor. 

“ I like your way too, for it brings changes. 
What shall we do next ? ” 

Something has been done. Now the next thing 
is — to do something else.” 


94 


FOURFOLD, 


Perhaps it is to wait/^ suggested timid Mari- 
gold. 

Waiting with papa^ is losing time ; he goes 
back, and expects to find you back where he is,” 
Tanzy brought forth oracularly, out of the depths of 
her experience. “ I shall take another step,” she 
said, impressively. 

Another step,” sounded interesting; Marigold, 
breathless, waited and listened. 

Let’s go over to the woods for moss and pigeon- 
berry blossoms — oh, the dear, little, delicate, cottony 
things bedded in the moss ! And I know where the 
laurel grows, and such ferns, fragrant like that 
green leaf with a blossom we found in that English 
lane in Devonshire. Don’t you remember how we 
went up the hill, and looked back at the red cliffs 
and the sea ? And we’ll get red clover ; it never was 
so fine, and daisies, and we’ll take our offering over 
to Margaret’s pale mother, and introduce ourselves.” 

O, Tanzy Henderson ! ” exclaimed Marigold, 
in affright, you never will.” 

You will see how I will,” laughed Tanzy, in tri- 
umph. He said this morning, when I looked pale 
at the breakfast table, that I should have the first 
reasonable request I made. After the request is 


SOMETHING GAINED, 


95 


granted, we^ll start on our wild flower expedition, 
which shall be our first expedition for the day.^^ 
The golden sceptre is already extended, then j 
but. Tan, he may not think it ^ reasonable.^ 

What is that about keeping the sea from the mar- 
ble palace, and the Princess May, and the Princess 
Alice, and the youngest Princess, Gwendoline ? 
Adelaide Proctor always runs a sad tone through her 
poems, but wefll have none in ours ; it will end with 
the youngest princess finding herself more of a prin- 
cess than she knew, and she’ll learn it by giving up 
her own will, and placing somebody above herself. 
I’ll fill that out for you to-night in the moonlight, 
and it will be so easy^ — ^in a story.” 


VII. 


grandfather’s letter. 

To-day is ours, and to-day, alone.’^ 

Dear/^ said Ernest Henderson, touching his 
wifc^s hair with his long, thin fingers, as she stood 
before her easel, we have made a mistake.^’ 

Where ? she asked, startled ; is it in the 
window, or the old man^s head? I was worried 
about that head, but Marigold said it was right.^^ 

‘‘ It is not your work,^^ he said, sadly, not dis- 
appointedly, for he was never disappointed in his 
wife ; had he not known her from babyhood ? 

How you frightened me then ! she cried, with 
a relieved breath. “ I have the outline of the prin- 
cess ; do you think it is pretty ? 

‘‘ Very pretty, he said, absently. 0, Helen, 
you knew no better, but I do — I ought to know 
better.’^ 

Why, isn’t it good ? Ernest, don’t teaze me. 

( 96 ) 


97 


GRANDFATHER'S LETTER. 

You know how my heart is in it. I would be ill in 
bed if it were a failure/^ 

It^s very pretty, wife ; a wrong stitch in some 
princesses can be taken out.^^ 

But do you see a wrong stitch ? 

Throwing her head back against him, she looked 
up anxiously into his eyes. 

I am not wise enough to tell ; the effect is charm- 
ing,’^ he said, with the light laugh he kept for her. 

Then why should he judge her ; was she wise 
enough to discover his mistake with his girls 5 was 
not the effect charming to her ? It is already a 
hard case for me that my occupations prevent me 
from being with her when she says her prayers,^^ 
said Queen Victoria, when it became necessary for 
her to give to another, the care of the little Princess 
Eoyal. 

How about his little Princess Eoyal ? No won- 
der the girls had grown away from their mother and 
their father ; and now how was he to grow up to 
them ? 

But I am so provokingly slow! I shall not fin- 
ish it in a year.^^ 

In a year an artist does not expect to average 

more than thirty inches square in the Gobelin 
7 


98 


FOURFOLD, 


work. You remember our visit to the Gobelin 
works in Paris ? To what queen do you expect to 
present your handicraft ? Apiece of work after the 
picture of Horace Vernet was done at the manufac- 
tory of the Gobelins, and presented to the queen of 
England.^^ 

Mine is for Marigold — ^when she is married.^^ 

Then you may be as long as you will/^ he said, 
in his lightest tone ; my girls belong to me.^^ 

^^Then, Ernest,’^ laying her hand on his arm, 
^^you must sometimes let them have their own 
way.^^ 

What will be the dreadful alternative ? 

They will marry somebody you do not like, to 
get away from home,’^ she answered, with deliberate 
emphasis. 

Nonsense! he answered sharply. 

With muttered words that his wife, now absorbed 
in the dress of the princess, did not catch, he threw 
himself at full length upon his lounge, resisting the 
impulse to put his fingers into his left-hand vest 
pocket for the key of the cabinet. 

''Papa!'' 

Two broad straw hats were nodding at him ; two 
laughing faces were peering in at the open window. 


GRANDFATHERS S LETTER. 


99 


I have come with my reasonable request.^^ 
Behold the golden sceptre.^^ 

Eeassured by the indulgence in words and man- 
ner^ Tanzy caught her breath, then spoke : May 
we do exactly as we like to-day, and will you prom- 
ise not to be severe to-night, when we tell you all 
about it ? 

0 yes, papa,’^ pleaded the soft voice that 
never pleaded for herself. 

Shall I put you on your honor ? 

We are never off it,^^ was Tanzy^s repartee. I 
ask permission for us both to do as I like to-day — 
and you know what I like.^^ 

What you like cannot be without remedy in 
one day ; be off with you.^^ 

He had noticed the plain linen dresses, and the 
baskets for mosses ; she would probably invite Mar- 
garet to help them work in their grotto, and per- 
haps, afterward, drive to a book store; what inno- 
cent children they were, to be sure ; and yet they 
had to beg release from his keen-eyed watchfulness 
for one summer^s day, and both twenty-one years 
of age ! 

Was he such a tyrant, monster, ogre ? Would not 
any bright girl be glad to escape from such bondage ? 


100 


FOURFOLD. 


But^ a short while ago^ they had been such little 
things, trotting around in white dresses, holding each 
other’s hand and pulling daisies and bringing them 
to him by the hour, or picking pebbles and begging 
him to pack them up and take them to America ; 
and now they were grown up, and asked greater 
things than he was willing to give. 

Had he been asleep all these years ? Asleep, or 
awake with the remorse of his unkept promise to 
his grandfather. Ernest, Nurse will give you a 
letter ; promise to d^ as it says ; his name is there, 
and how to find him ; read my books and papers, 
and burn everything.’’ 

And he had promised; ^^in the name of the just 
God,” his grandfather had added, in his husky whis- 
per. Why had not the old coward, tottering on the 
verge of the grave so many years, made the fourfold 
restitution ” himself while the money was his own ? 
Why leave such a splendid legacy to the little girls, and 
then cancel it by that letter written in his imbecile 
last days ? Why had he not made another will and 
had it all plain and aboveboard ? Why should he 
keep a promise made to a paralyzed old man with a 
confused mind ; so confused that he called his doc- 
tor Theophilus Dennis, and told him that he had 


GI^ANDFA THERMS LETTER, IQI 

made it right about that iron land in Missouri. 
That iron land was only the beginning of his wealth ; 
it was a small affair, and hardly counted; why should 
one fraud in a long life-time, take such gigantic pro- 
portions at the last ? 

He had made the solemn promise on his knees, 
thinking it some trifle that worried the old man. 

Don^t give it to Ernest while I am alive,^^ he 
said to Nurse, he will be angry.^^ 

Nurse had obeyed in fear and trembling, and 
brought the sealed, soiled envelope to him the day 
after the funeral. 

I cannot help it, sir,’^ she said, frightened and 
white, the old man called me to bring the children 
in, and then he asked for paper and pen and ink, 
and he wrote on it and made me seal it and promise 
to give it to you after he was gone. He fainted 
afterward, and was worse every day; all he said was 
that he was so old, and he had kept saying he 
would see to it next year ; but he could trust you to 
do it, sir. I hope it^s nothing troublesome, sir. I 
would have burnt it up, but I was afraid.^’ 

All he said in reply was, ‘‘ You were right, Nurse.’^ 
Tanzy was five that day, that very day, and now 
she was twenty-one, and had inherited her great- 


102 


FOURFOLD, 


grandfather^s money j the money that did not belong 
to her^ the money that did not belong to Marigold^ 
if he held sacred this latest trust, and righted the 
man their great-grandfather, with his greed for gold, 
had wronged. It would take every cent of the ori- 
ginal bequests, if he followed to the letter his grand- 
father's last crazy wnim, with the accumulated inter- 
est ; but what right had he to do it for them ? They 
were of age ; his grandfather might better have en- 
trusted this reparation to them. What was this Theo- 
philus Dennis and his heirs to him ? The man might 
have died years ago — it was twenty years since his 
grandfather knew he was living. What if he did 
reconsider, and recall the bequests to his little grand- 
children — ^the will was made, signed, sealed and 
witnessed ; the last red tape in the matter was at- 
tended to three days after Tanzy became of age ; all 
he had to do was to burn, or bury that faded bit of 
paper ; no eye save his grandfather’s and his own 
had ever seen the trembling, blotted lines ; if he 
should burn it, how could it be brought up against 
the old man in the Day of Judgment, or against 
him, or against the two innocent girls who never 
could know it ? 

None of his grandfather’s money, excepting his 


GRANDFATHERS S LETTER, 


103 


mother^s portion, had come to him, and his wife’s 
money had come through her mother ; both inheri- 
tances were from the same source ; this Theophilus 
Dennis had no claim upon his mother’s inheritance ; 
he had no claim anywhere ; it was the whim of a 
dying old man, whose business life had followed so 
close upon his death-bed that it mingled in his dying 
dreams 5 it was the dream of his confused brain. 
Theophilus Dennis might never have existed but in 
this confused dream ; why had he not heard his 
grandfather speak the name ? In that tin box of 
letters he had never opened — ^but he would open it 
to-morrow, and if he discovered a clue he would fol- 
low it up. 

Helen, come and stroke my head. I am wor- 
ried.^^ 

Instantly the princess and her gold and crimson 
robe was forgotten. 

Don^t be worried,^^ she persuaded, as her fingers 
stroked his hot forehead. Is it about money ? 
You say you never worry about money. Use my 
money when yours is gone. Is it that Central 
Road % 

Yes, that Central Road has swamped some of 
yours as well as thousands of mine ; that Central 


104 


FOURFOLD, 


Eoad isn^t the only failure. Helen, if Tanzy thought 
we had lost our money, she would give us all of 
hers, don^t you think she would ? 

0 yes, and Marigold, too. But we haven^t 
lost it, have we ? 

We have lost enough. You wouldn^t like to be 
poor, would you ? 

1 don^t know,^^ she answered, sincerely. Poor 
people are happy ; they look so. Ernest, I don^t 
think I know how to be poor.^^ 

He laughed, and drawing her hand down to his 
lips, pressed the tip of her finger between his 
teeth. 

I have never taught you that ; you know very 
little that I have not taught you. If our girls were 
like you I should not be worried. But don^t you 
worry if we have lost money, it is not enough to in- 
terfere with your comfort or your pretty occupation. 
But perhaps it is best for Tanzy to think so. Do 
not be alarmed at whatever I choose to say to her ; 
it is for her, not for you.^^ 

But isn^t it true ? she asked, perplexed at the 
thought of deceit. 

True enough for my purpose,^^ he answered, 
sharply. 


GRANDFATHER’S LETTER. 


105 


I would not like to deceive the girls, Ernest,’’ 
she said, with unusual persistency. 

“ Can you not trust their father f ” he asked, re- 
proachfully. 

You are cross to Tanzy, sometimes.” 

'‘When I have to be. Like a spirited young 
colt, she must be trained with bit and bridle.” 

" Does she want to do such wicked things ? ” 

" She wants to do rash and unworldly-wise things. 
Would you like to have her give all her money 
away ? ” 

" She could have ours.” 

“ That is nonsense,” he exclaimed impatiently ; 
" why should she not have ours — ^what there is left, 
and her own also ? She may have a long life before 
her — as long as grandfather — he was over eighty- 
five, and she may lose, as I have done — as you have 
done. I shall not always live to take care of it for 
her, and this is a mighty unsatisfactory world with- 
out a check -book, little wife. But if you don’t care 
about her money, you care about her. Do you want 
that young man over the way to beguile her into 
leaving her father and mother, and going off to 
heathen countries ? ” 

" I would like our girls to be happily married, 


106 


FOURFOLD. 


Ernest/^ she answered, frightened at herself for 
seeming to oppose him. 

In the name of common sense, what for ? 

She was startled, but she answered with new 
strength in her soft voice. Nurse said if there were 
any fight in this gentle mother, the rights of her 
girls would some day bring it out. 

Because women are happier, I think ; if they 
have good and loving husbands they certainly 
are. In the Bible stories your mother used to tell 
us the women had husbands. I remember some 
of the beautiful stories now, donH you? If I 
knew how to tell stories, I would tell them to the 
girls.’^ 

You had better not,^’ he said, harshly; ^^they 
hear stories enough.^^ 

Don^t you remember Ruth ? That was a pretty 
story. And Abigail was another, and Rebekah. 
Oh, and Queen Esther ! Why, how I remember 
them ! And old Sarah and her little boy. I haven’t 
thought of them for years and years.” 

That was in the rude ages of the world. A 
woman needed a husband for protection. Jewish 
women especially were looking forward to a Great 
Deliverer to be born. It was a reproach in their na- 


GRANDFATHERS S LETTER, 


107 


tion not to be a mother. We are not living in those 
times. Marigold and Tanzy are not Sarah and 
Euth. Do not be influenced by your nursery 
tales.^^ 

The sweet face was clouded ; she did not know 
how to argue ; the nursery tales were the pretti- 
est she knew. 

But — ^Ernest/^ the pleading was in her very 
fingers, as she stroked his forehead, I want Tanzy 
to be happy, don’t you ? ” 

^^That is what I am planning for. What else 
should I plan and worry for % I know the world, as 
you cannot ; if the girls and their money are taken 
away from my protection, who knows what will be- 
fall them ? ” 

But aren’t there good men in the world ? ” 

If there are, I never saw them.” 

I think some people must be good ; I wish we 
could go and see.” 

Go where % ” he asked, teazingly. 

Over the way,” she said, bravely. I would 
like to know Mrs. Eenderdine.” 

You are all conspired against me. If that Ken- 
derdine craze keeps on. I’ll lock my doors, and shut 
my blinds. Don’t you see — ^how can you be so 


108 


FOURFOLD. 


blinded — they are just the kind to influence Tanzy. 
That girl at Kome was the beginning of it, and I 
put a stop to it by taking the girls away ; and this 
will be like it^ and worse, because that young fellow 
is here, with his handsome face and crazy enthusi- 
asm. FU shut the girls up, before they shall be 
stolen from me.^^ 

O, Ernest ! was the tearful response. 

I am in the savage state, now,^^ he laughed hys- 
terically, keep away from me.^^ 

“ Take your medicine ; that always quiets you.^^ 

Yes, to my eternal destruction. Helen, do you 
know your husband is an opium eater ? 

The despair in his voice touched her j the words 
meant little ; she had heard of opium; people who 
were in great pain had to take it to put them out of 
their misery; but how could that hurt anybody? 
He had given her some once when she had tooth- 
ache ; she told him she would have toothache again 
for the sake of the sleep she had that night. 

Is that so very dreadful ? 

Poor child ! he muttered, I might be a good 
father, but for that, and an honest man. My brain 
is seldom clear, now-a-days ; I used to have a clear 


GRANDFATHERS S LETTER, 


109 


brain. Helen, I am forgetting how to tell the truth ; 
is that so very dreadful ? 

You are forgetting to tell it now/^ she answered, 
with an uneasy laugh. DonH talk so any longer. 
You don^t know how you have made my heart beat. 
Put your hand there and see.^’ 

Lifting his hand she laid it against the quickened 
beating of her heart. 

There ! There ! I was only talking to teaze 
you. But do not tell Marigold and Tanzy what I 
said. Do not tell any one in the world. Promise 
me, Helen. You never told me a lie.^^ 

I promise you,^^ she said, still pressing his hand 
against her heart. But I wish you had not said 
it. If it makes you like that you mustn^t take it any 
longer. Promise me^ Ernest.^^ 

My poor little wife,’^ he murmured, go back 
to your princess. Perhaps I can go to sleep.^^ 


VIII. 


Pebbles. 

We will obey the voice of the Lord our God, 

That it may be well with us.^^ 

On the honeysuckle end of the piazza Margaret 
was sitting beside her mother^s reclining chair ; over 
her mother^s blue lap were scattered yards of white 
wool knitting; many happy thoughts were knitted 
into its pointed edges^ for it was a pattern she had 
taught her Hindu girls at home/^ as she still spoke 
of that far-away bungalow ; upon the girPs lap was 
a thin volume opened downward. 

The girls have gone off towards the woods/^ re- 
marked this girl; who loved to watch the other girls. 

I feel so near and so far off, while I watch them. 
Susie said they were as loveable as kittens, and 
seemed to crave to know people. They might as 
well be Hindu maidens — and better, mother, for 
missionaries might be sent to them. Susie had them 

such a little time — their father hurried them away, 

riio) 


PEBBLES, 


111 


and Tanzy was not allowed to write to her. I won- 
der what idea they have of us % 

What they think of us depends so much upon 
themselves^ that I cannot even surmise.^^ 

I suppose they pity us/^ said Margaret, her eyes 
darkening, every one does, who does not imder- 
stand.” 

We are very poor in their thinking; our home 
for the summer is a loan, and our winter home is 
not yet provided.^^ 

^^We will fly south with the birds,^^ answered 
Margaret, merrily. wish to go where I cannot 
shiver. When father was burning with jungle fever 
he said his idea of heaven was a snowbank ; but 
since last winter, I dreaded the sight of a snowbank. 
Perhaps we may have another surprise, something 
like this ; oh, don^t you remember how you were 
saying that you wanted a cottage with a honey- 
suckle piazza, for your sake, and girls for neighbors 
for my sake, and near a railroad for MarFs sake, 
and just then the postman rang, and I ran down and 
got Mrs. Jansen^s letter! I think it must have 
dropped right out of heaven. And to think that 
she asked the favor of giving us her dear little house 
all furnished, while she went to Europe, and EachePs 


112 


FOURFOLD, 


services thrown in. Mr. Jansen was poor when she 
married him^ wasn^t he % 

‘ ^He was in a good business. How sorry she was 
for me^ when I told her I was engaged to a poor 
student ; she was engaged then to Harry Jansen, 
and it was our last year at Mount Holyoke.’^ 

She doesn’t understand, either, how you could let 
father go back. But she has gone to Europe and 
left her poor old mother with heart disease, and only 
a daughter-in-law to take care of her ; she under- 
stands how she can go.” 

India is farther off,” replied Mrs. Kenderdine. 

It seems far off to everybody,” said Margaret. 

Nobody understands.” 

It isn’t far off to us,” said her mother, with her 
sweet smile. 

I do believe red clover was never so beautiful 
before,” cried Margaret, enthusiastically, her eyes 
roving over a clover field on Mr. Lancaster’s farm. 

I told Agnes it is our clover summer ; I could lie 
down and go to sleep in it. They will soon be on 
the plains again ; their hill summer is almost over. 
Mrs. Lancaster looked politely surprised when I 
spoke of Agnes playing lawn tennis. I suppose she 
thinks missionaries are martyrs. Her husband is a 


PEBBLES, 


113 


tea merchant in Chinaj and comes home only when 
it is good for his business^ and she does not call her 
friends and neighbors in to sympathize and condole 
with her.’^ 

If the English government gave father twenty- 
five thousand a year, she would understand how you 
could let him go. And now down come the corners 
of her mouth and she whines : ^ The separation must 
be trying to you, Mrs. Kenderdine.^ Her husband 
sends home elegant things, and she boasts of it and 
talks about the house he will build as his country 
seat when he returns ten years hence. Mother, I 
was too provoked to stay and listen.^^ For a mo- 
ment she was too provoked to speak, and then 
continued more quietly: Fathers last letter about 
his preaching tour, and that talk with the priest, 
and the examination in our girls^ school is worth to 
us a thousand fold more than the box of oriental 
treasures on its way to her.’^ 

cannot understand about her treasures, 
Margaret, replied her mother, quietly. 

No,^^ was the girFs emphatic rejoinder. When 
you spoke of our good things, she looked politely 
blank, and said such encouragement must be very 

precious to you. As precious as a box of tea, I 
8 


114 


FOURFOLD. 


suppose. Father is giying his life^ and it is nothing 
to her. She is as gay as she likes to be, with her 
summer guests and her trip to Saratoga, and comes 
here lengthening her face and lowering her voice to 
pity you. I don^t see how you coiJd be so gentle 
to her.^^ 

You will know sometime — ^when you grow gen- 
tle. Her butterfly call amuses me ; she is very 
kind. She asked me if I would like to drive, and 
said her coachman was at my service any day, be- 
tween one and four.^^ 

When it is too hot for her to drive,^^ cried Mar- 
garet indignantly. 

“ She thinks I am used to a high temperature.^^ 
You are not used to people like her, and I wish 
I might tell her so; what did you say about driving 
I said, that was my resting time.^^ 

And she looked relieved, I dare say.’^ 

Mrs. Kenderdine smiled ; it did strike her that 
the lady looked relieved. 

I don^t believe she loves her husband ! ex- 
claimed Margaret, after a moment. She loves 
better, what he gets for her.^^ 

So do I — ^love better, what my husband gets.’^ 

‘‘ Mother, you are incorrigible,’^ laughed Marga- 


PEBBLES. 


115 


ret. don^t believe Marigold and Tanzy will 
come to condole with us, or come at all, in fact. 
What a small, withered, black-bearded specimen 
their father is ; their mother is a pink and white 
piece of softness ; I don^t believe she does anything 
beside existj^ Margaret ended, springing to her 
feet, and here I sit, forgetting that I am house- 
keeper, and dinner has not been ordered. Our 
lunch to-day is to be simple and elegant.” 

Clover and daisies, cream and sunshine, and 
thankfulness,” hazarded her mother. 

Something akin to them. Mrs. Jansen’s range 
is a luxury; it makes me enjoy cooking. Rachel is 
teaching me all she knows. When Mark gets ice, 
we’ll have ice cream ! Oh, if I could only send 
some to Agnes and father.” 

Giving her mother a sudden kiss, and making 
her promise anew that she would ring her bell if she 
needed her, she whisked herself off to the kitchen 
to ask Rachel to teach her to make strawberry short 
cake for dessert. 

Half an hour Mrs. Kenderdine rested with closed 
eyes, and then a step upon the piazza announced 
Mark. 

Here you are, in Honeysuckle Corner^ with all 


116 


FOURFOLD. 


the carbon^ oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen to your- 
self. Are you growing like the red clover this 
morning ? 

Without toiling or spinning, only talcing ^ that is 
certainly what I am doing.^^ 

But you think, and the clover does not, yet it 
grows.^^ 

I do not think hindering thoughts — ^not this 
morning.’^ 

She was not suffering with longing for her hus- 
band^s presence as she had suffered a year ago ; she 
had consciously given her emotional nature to Christ, 
telling him she could no longer bear it ; it was sap- 
ping her physical strength. 

As in her daily looking forward, the world to 
which Christ had gone, the world where she would 
soon be with him, where she would go to her hus- 
band, and her husband go to her, became more and 
more actual and present to her ; so this world be- 
came less and less an abiding place; she was 
passing through it on her short way Home. This 
morning the fields about her were not very far from 
the sweet fields beyond the swelling flood which 
stand dressed in living green. Her home-sickness 
was for Heaven. 


PEBBLES, 


117 


You must not think them any morning. Like 
the physicians to the Emperor of Chinaj my salary 
stops when you fall ill. Your color is good to-day/^ 
he remarked, with an assumed professional air. 

Because I am of good cheer ; it is a pleasant 
thing to know that cheer primarily signified 

Your cheer is always in your face ; your heart 
is in your eyes, like that girPs at Daisy Fields. I 
have quite a narrative to relate this morning ; early 
as it is, it is a day of events in my calendar. Where 
is Margaret ? 

In the kitchen, as usual.’’ 

She must come ; it will not take long. Touch 
your hell, please.” 

The bell brought her, with strawberry stained 
fingers. 

Mark was too lazy to go for you,” explained his 
mother, he has a tale to tell.” 

The slightest happening in their quiet days was 
an event ; Margaret stationed herself beside her 
mother’s chair to listen, half hiding her fingers under 
her white apron ; Mark stood against the honey- 
suckle lattice. 

I’ve visited the hermit, and I’ve spoken to the 
girls,” he began, in a mysterious whisper. 


118 


FOURFOLD, 


Oh ! ’’ cried Margaret. 

The irivalid^s face was encouragement for an hour 
of story telling. 

I went at your bidding, Mistress Margaret, to 
ransack the cmmtry for ice in this rare June weath- 
er, and whenever I saw anything that had the ap- 
pearance of the roof of an ice house, there I stopped 
and inquired. In this way I wandered on into the 
village of Mansfield ; that brown farm-house on the 
same side of the street as the church, had certain 
attractions for me, and there I stopped again. A 
pretty girl — all girls are pretty in stories, stood at 
the well-sweep and with pretty bare arms was 
drawing water. In answer to my frank and urgent 
inquiry, she told me with the utmost frankness, that 
Miss Lynn had an ice-house ; she did not seU ice, 
bus she often gave it away. Following her around 
to the back shed — she would not allow me to carry 
the old oaken bucket, the moss-covered bucket that 
hangs in the well — I found an ancient maiden lady 
with a pleasant visage, wringing out clothes with a 
clothes wringer. The girl disposed of her bucket 
of water and went back to her suds. She was very 
neat, in a short blue dress, and with her plump arms 
and crown of braided hair made as taking a picture 


PEBBLES. 


119 


as one wishes to see— over a wash tub. Miss Lynn 
called her Lucinda. She said, ^ Lucinda, you 
haven^t put in blueing enough,^ and Lucinda said, 
^ There wasn^t any more in the house.^ 

After the ice business was arranged — and we can 
have it twice a week, for your sake. Aunt May, and 
her man will bring it — she is interested in missions, 
and gave a hundred dollars last year, and that means 
something when a woman keeps summer boarders — 
she didn^t tell me — Lucinda told me, but where was 
If?? 

After the ice business was arranged,’’ Margaret 
remembered, with becoming seriousness. 

I asked her if she knew where the hermit lived ; 
I told her I was in search of curiosities in the shape 
of human beings. Lucinda had gone into the kitchen 
and left us alone in the shed ; she looked in the di- 
rection in which the girl disappeared, before she 
answered, ^ He is her grandfather,’ she said, in a 
whisper ; come out and see my strawberry bed and I 
will tell you all about him and her.” 

With alacrity I accepted the strawberry bed invi- 
tation, and while we went up the path to the field — 
such a pretty ascent — she told me the pathetic story. 
Lucinda was taken from an Orphan Home when 


120 


FOURFOLD. 


she was twelve. Miss Lynn was left alone by her 
father^s death, and being lonesome, and needing 
help, beside, went to this Asylum in quest of a pretty, 
healthy, and intelligent child, with good blood in 
her veins. She found Lucinda. That was twelve 
years ago. This morning she was a pretty, healthy, 
intelligent young woman with good blood in her 
veins. She calls Miss Lynn ^ Aimtie.’ She had the 
advantage and disadvantage of the Mansfield school 
until she was nineteen. Her benefactress waxed elo- 
quent in her praise.” 

Her benefactress must have waxed warm to- 
wards you,” laughed Margaret. 

She did. She was at the missionary prayer 
meeting, Sunday night a week ago, and told me 
she heard me speak and saw my little sister with 
me.” 

^^But how did you ever get to the hermit ? ” 

The transition was easy ; from Lucinda we went 
to her father and mother, thence up to her mother’s 
father. Lucinda’s father also had good blood in his 
veins, but he died early and left little Lucinda and 
her mother with the hermit. He was not a hermit 
then, he was merely the kind of a man that hermits 
are made of. He owned land, he had a pretty home, 


PEBBLES, 


121 


and a wife, and a little girl. Some man, who loved 
money and knew how to make it, bought his farm, 
paying him a fair price for it, as he supposed ; after 
the money was paid and the deed made out, and the 
property legally transferred, he learned that he had 
been cheated. The rich man had discovered that 
the land was valuable for its iron ore — Miss Lynn 
believed it was iron, it was something, at any rate, 
out of which the rich man made more money, and 
he paid merely the price of average farming land. 
It was not in this State ; she had forgotten the 
State, also ; then she remembered Missouri, and as 
that is one of our richest states in iron ore, the story 
gains in truthfulness. That discovery almost crazed 
the poor young farmer ; but the worst of it came 
later. He came to New Jersey and invested in a 
coal mine every cent of his small fortune, and lost 
every single cent of it. She thinks he was more 
simple than shrewd, and easily fell a prey to specu- 
lators. His wife fell ill and died; the little girl 
grew up somehow and married, and Lucinda is her 
little girl. The poor fellow failed in one thing after 
another ; several winters he cut wood for Miss Lynn 
— some one at the asylum kept run of him for the 
child’s sake ; but finally his mind went more and 


122 


FOURFOLD, 


more, and now it is quite gone. There is a small 
house up the hill on the edge of the woods which 
her grandfather built and occupied when the village 
was young and his farm was new ; when the present 
house was built, the old one was left unused ; she 
said he always meant to have it brought down for a 
woodhouse, but never had, and her father had never 
wished to go to the expense, and she kept it as an 
‘ heirloom.’ It has several one-storied rooms, and is 
a comfortable shelter in summer. 

The old man has taken a fancy to live there alone 
and collect his pebbles ; with them he buys bread 
and coffee and sugar at the store, and Miss Lynn 
pays his bills. He is gentle and silent ; reads his 
Bible, and prays, picks up his pebbles, stores them, 
and counts them, and believes he shall soon have 
enough to buy his farm back, and then his wife is 
coming to live with him, and his little girl. This 
summer he has not recognized his granddaughter. 
He is very feeble ; she thinks he cannot live through 
another winter. She will beguile him and his peb- 
bles down to the house before it is too cold for him 
in his cabin. He is easily pleased, and a handful 
of pebbles moves him to tears. She thinks he counts 
them every day; each pebble is a silver dollar.” 


PEBBLES, 


123 


Mrs. Kenderdine^s eyes were full of tears ; Mar- 
garet was thinking of Lucinda. 

What is his name ? 

He has never told her his right name, she is 
sure ; but Theophilus Dennis is written in his Bible, 
and once she called him by it, and he looked up and 
^ answered, seeming slightly startled, and then he 
said his name was Dennis Green, and she had made 
a mistake ; Lucinda says the name sounds familiar 
to her, but she has forgotten to whom it belonged ; 
she knows her mother^s name was Mary Dennis be- 
fore she was married 5 and her name is Lucinda 
Dennis Mayhew; she thinks she was named for 
her grandmother. I am very much interested. 
It is not such an unusual story in this world 
of deceit and selfishness, but the old man is bent, 
and his placid countenance and long thin silver 
hair, and rows of paper boxes filled with his use- 
less treasure, are very touching. He did not 
care to talk to me, but he was not uncour* 
teous.^^ 

Oh, I wish I could go to see him, mother — ^may 
I ? asked Margaret. 

If Mark is willing. 

^^I see no objection 5 Miss Lynn will welcome 


124 


FOURFOLD. 


you ; she is coming to call when her washing and 
ironing are done/^ 

wish she would bring Lucinda/^ said Mrs. 
Kenderdine. 

Mother, perhaps she is just as happy/^ said 
Margaret, as though her grandfather had not been 
cheated.^^ 

Does any one know the name of the man who 
cheated him ? inquired Mrs. Kenderdine. 

Miss Lynn does not ; Lucinda never heard it, 
and the old man has never spoken it. Miss Lynn 
asked him several years ago, but he muttered some- 
thing, and seemed unwilling to say ; she thinks it 
has passed out of his mind. If one knew nothing 
could be done, nothing could be done then ; 
she thinks he tried to get redress at the time.’’ 

^^How many years ago was it ? ” asked Margaret. 

When he was in early manhood — of course, the 
other man is dead ; died rich probably, and his 
granddaughter is rolling in her ill-gotten wealth to- 
day ” 

The farm would never have made him rich,” 
interrupted Margaret ; he has not lost great wealth, 
only his farm — and all he had ; but for that, Lucin- 
da might have been singing the song of the suds 


PEBBLES. 


125 


down in Missouri and never have been in an Orphan 
Asylum^ and her mother^s life would have been so 
different, and the poor old bewildered and disap- 
pointed man wouldn^t have been counting pebbles 
and saving them to buy back his farm — oh, dear — 
I wish men wouldn^t be so hard-hearted and unscru- 
pulous, simply for the sake of getting rich/^ 

^^If the young farmer had been content to be 
wronged, and not tried to get the worth of his land 
back by speculating in coal, and had bought an- 
other farm with his money, to him it might have 
been as though that iron man had not bought his 
land, as though he had not been wronged. Both 
were making haste to get rich, the simple man as 
well as the shrewd man.^^ 

Mother, cried Margaret, indignantly, you are 
not justifying the iron man, and making the farming 
man as much to blame 

No, dear, not at all,^^ replied her mother, her 
gentle voice in strong contrast to Margaret^s ; I am 
only thinking how acceptance of wrong, and keep- 
ing on as though one had not done wrong, might have 
cancelled the evil effect — as far as the wronged 
one was concerned. Land not as valuable would 
have raised equally good corn and oats and potatoes, 


126 


FOURFOLD, 


and his home could have been as pretty and happy — 
and he had the amount to buy it. About the wrong 
doer I have nothing to say. God will be his judge. 
I would rather be Lucinda at the wash tub, than the 
other granddaughter driving around with a coach- 
man and four.’^ 

But it isn’t her fault, either,” said perplexed 
Margaret. 

But her life is different because of it.” 

Can she help it ? ” 

She will never know it, probably ; she may be 
hindered and hampered by her wealth, and not un- 
derstand why.” 

Then, mother, what can she do ? I do not un- 
derstand at all.” 

‘‘ The one thing God asks of us all — of Lucinda 
as well as of her — obey his commandments.” 

‘‘ Will that make it right again ? ” 

For her, surely. Her grandfather is in the 
hands of the Judge of all the earth.” 

Obedience averts the evil, the evil we inherit,” 
said Margaret, meditatively. Was my great-grand- 
father a good man, I wonder ? ” 

Your great-grandfather was a poor country 
minister, and so was your grandfather.” 


PEBBLES, 


127 


Then it has come down in a straight line to me ; 
mother, I ought to be very good/^ she said, hum- 
bly. 

Your father says his grandfather used to pray 
that his children might be a blessing to the world to 
the latest generation ; and to-day he does not know 
one that is not a Christian, many of them eminent, 
all of them workers/^ 

I am very thankful.^^ 

Some one must have prayed for me,’^ said Mark, 
much moved. I ran away from a woman who was 
not kind to me^ when I was nine years old, and 
dear father and mother Kenderdine took me into 
their childless home, loved me, and educated me, 
and left me all they had. Why need anybody be 
afraid to grow up in this world that God is watch- 
ing over ? Lucinda and I were taken care of.^^ 

I must know Lucinda ! exclaimed Margaret ; 
mother, I am finding girls.^^ 

Which reminds me to continue my interesting 
narrative,’^ said Mark, resuming his story-telling 
tone. Coming across the fields and through the 
woods in the way home, for the sake of the ramble, 
I stumbled upon two girls in big hats gathering 
ferns. They were trying to climb a tumble-down 


128 


FOURFOLD. 


fence as I came across them, and one big hat 
tumbled over and screamed. And, like the 
knightly soldier that I am, I ran to the rescue, 
and arrived there in time to lift my hat and beg 
pardon for — ^being frightened. 

They were as easy and natural as though they 
were keeping an appointment with me. Grey Eyes 
was shy after the first moment, but Blue Eyes 
chatted like a magpie, and asked me to tell you 
that they were gathering wild-flowers for you, and 
were expecting to call this morning and bring them. 
They had been eager to come ever since they had 
seen you on the piazza, but could not until to- 
day.^^ 

That is delightful ! exclaimed Mrs. Kender- 
dine. Margaret, I must put on a white wrapper.^^ 
And I must finish my strawberry short-cake. I 
wish they would stay to lunch. You know, we are 
in the country, and people can do anything in the 
country. It^s just like a story-book.’^ 

Lucinda doesn’t think so,” said Mark. I 
suppose her clothes are all hung out by this time.” 


IX. 


WELCOME. 

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.” 

The blue wrapper was exchanged for a white one^ 
andj as the sun grew high, the reclining chair was 
changed to another piazza corner, more cool and 
shaded. The strawberry short-cake was finished 
and brought out for inspection, pronounced a 

delicious brown,” and set away in a dark closet. 
Then Margaret and her book came back to her 
mother^s side, to talk, and read, and wonder about 
the girls and what had moved them to come, and to 
watch for their coming. 

Mark and another book were in the honeysuckle 
comer. He called out that he was sitting there 
waiting for practice. 

He said he had put out his sign to give an air to 
the place, and to get some kind of a foothold in the 

village. It was instinct to trust a doctor. 

9 ( 129 ) 


130 


FOURFOLD, 


It’s queer to be on the suburbs of a village/’ re- 
marked Margaret. I suppose one cannot be, lite- 
rally. I wonder if those girls know Latin?” 

They know how to be frank and unembar- 
rassed,” called out Mark, who loved to listen to 
Margaret’s voice. I felt awkward enough : and I 
suppose I acted so.” 

You couldn’t,” said Margaret, you were never 
awkward in your life.” 

Mistress Margaret, you tempt me to quote the 
French lady who said that she could forgive a crime, 
it might have some grand motive ; but never an awk- 
wardness.” 

That sounds French,” said Mrs Kenderdine. 

Mother!” 

Margaret had been thinking for five minutes, with 
her head resting on the back of her mother’s chair. 

That frightens me — ^ The fathers have eaten sour 
grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ I 
would like to know the story of those who have in- 
herited that wrongly gotten wealth.” 

Do you remember what God says about that 
proverb you just quoted ? ” 

No : I did not know it was in the Bible at all ; 
it was running through my head.” 


WELCOME, 


131 


Bring me a Bible and you shall read it to me ; 
then you will never be frightened again.” 

Margaret believed her mother had but to open 
the Bible to find everything she wanted ; 'every 
perplexity vanished as soon as she brought her the 
Book. 

Margaret read : 

What mean ye that ye use this proverb con- 
cerning the land of Israel, saying, The fathers have 
eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set 
on edge ? As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall 
not have occasion any more to use this proverb in 
Israel. Behold, all souls are mine ; as the soul of 
the father, so also the soul of the son is mine : the 
soul that sinneth it shall die.” 

If you read on you will see — ^there, the four- 
teenth verse,” her mother indicated, looking over 
the page. 

Again Margaret read : 

Now if he beget a son, that seeth all his father’s 
sins which he hath done, and considereth and doeth 

not such like But he must consider and not do ; it 

depends upon that.” 

Bead on ; what is the promise % ” 

— - he shall not die for the iniquity of his father, 


132 


FOURFOLD, 


he shall surely live. As for his father, because he 
cruelly oppressed, spoiled his brother by violence, 
and did that which is not good among his people, lo, 
even he shall die in his iniquity . — Spoiled his brother! 
That is the very sin that has spoiled that old man’s 
life. It must be terrible to know one’s money has 
come down that way ; terrible to know that one’s 
grandfather died in his iniquity. But, perhaps, this 
spoiler of his brother could not find him to make 
restitution. Oh, I hope he tried to.” 

‘‘ I don’t believe he tried very hard,” called out 
Mark, from his corner. 

Perhaps he lost his money, and couldn’t,” sur- 
mised Margaret ; perhaps his granddaughter is 
poorer to-day than Lucinda is. I hope, either way, 
she will never know that her grandfather spoiled 
his brother.” 

Unless she can find the old man and his peb- 
bles,” said her mother. 

It is too late for him to be recompensed,” 
replied Mark ; “ the pebbles are more to him 
than money. Miss Lynn says he does not care 
for ten cent pieces ; she has offered them to 
him.” 

“ But it isn’t too late for Lucinda,” said Margaret, 


WELCOME. 


133 


she might be educated and travel, and have a home 
of her own/^ 

She is enough of a lady, and she has learned 
what money is worth by earning it. What a mine 
of wealth a thousand dollars would be to her ! More 
than all their father^s money to those girls over the 
probably. I wish those girls might live with 
Miss Lynn for one year — with what opened eyes 
they would look out upon life.^^ 

Do I need to live with Miss Lynn for one year ? 
Margaret asked, as he slid out of his steamer chair 
to come towards her. 

You have had your life, the best possible for 
you ; I would not change one hour of it.^^ 

‘‘ And these girls have had theirs,^^ said Marga- 
ret^s mother. I would not change one hour of it.^^ 

‘‘ I am glad you went for ice to-day for my cake, 
Mark,^^ said Margaret, as he came to the back of 
her chair, and rested both elbows on it, for I have 
learned to be thankful for my great-grandfather. 
Now I know what it means, that oft-repeated quota- 
tion of yours, that a child^s education begins a hun- 
dred years before he is bom.^^ 

You have learned something beside.^^ 

What ? she asked, smiling up into the eyes 


134 


FOURFOLD. 


that were the same color as her own, but many 
shades darker. She was proud to be called his 
little sister. 

That your great-grandchildren’s great-grand- 
mother must behave herself for their sakes.” 

Mother, are you making a good great-grand- 
mother of me ? ” she asked, with a merry laugh. 

You are enough like your grandmother, child, 
to make it worth while ; I see my mother in you 
very often ; she was a bustling, busy little creature, 
and when she sewed, she held her work as you hold 
yours.” 

Mark, you have come to read to us,” said Mar- 
garet, with her little air of command, you must 
keep me amused until the girls come ; I am very 
impatient to hear them talk.” 

No, I came for your mother’s crumb — has she 
told you about it ? ” 

The crumb ” was the bit of Bible food and re- 
freshment Mrs. Kenderdine found for herself every 
morning. 

Margaret said that her mother believed it was 
written for her, and for that very moment ; and to- 
day it assuredly was, for it strengthened the fainting 
heart with strongest strength. 


WELCOME. 


135 


If I tell you how much it is to me, you will 
know how sorely I needed it/^ Mrs. Kenderdine 
replied^ with the shadow of a smile ; but it is true, 
even if faithlessly true, that I did awake this morn- 
ing with a very sore heart. It must have begun in 
my sleep. I awoke thinking how that wife over 
the way is always with her husband, and how much 
I might be to mine were I strong and well — as 
strong and well as the Lord might have made me 
and kept me — ^but he did not. My reading — I 
found my Testament under my pillow — ^was about 
the kingdom of heaven being like the householder 
who went out early in the morning to hire laborers 
for his vineyard. To some he said : ^ Go ye also 
into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will 
give you.^ That ^ whatsoever is right ^ was aU I 
wanted. I slipped the book back and thought 
about it. The Householder has sent my laborer 
into his vineyard, and whatsoever is right he has 
promised to give him. If it were right for me to be 
well and strong, standing at his side, as I did for 
nearly twenty-five years, he would give that to him. 
But he sent him back without me. It was not 
right that I should be given him. ‘ Shall not the 
Judge of all the earth do right ? ^ 


136 


FOURFOLD, 


Mark walked away. Happy tears were shining 
in the eyes of the laborer’s wife. Margaret was 
sobbing. 

Voices were at the gate, and steps on the piazza. 
Mark stepped forward to receive the wild-flower- 
laden girls, and introduce them to Mrs. Kenderdine 
and Miss Kenderdine. 

You cannot see us for the flowers,’’ laughed 
Tanzy, shyly ; but we wanted to bring all the 
woods and fields to you ; and I hope you do not 
know the pigeon-berry blossom, for I want you to 
learn about us both together. We wanted to bring 
you something besides Marigold and Tanzy.” 

Not something I am more glad to see. Girls, 
I have been longing for you to come.” 

Then everybody laughed, and Mark pushed the 
piazza chairs into a half circle about Mrs. Kender- 
dine. The flowers were handled and talked about 
and exclaimed over, and Mark brought jars for the 
ferns, and vases for the flowers, declaring it was the 
first Flower Mission he had ever been actively 
engaged in. 

Tanzy spoke of a thrush in the woods, and then 
from flowers they went to birds, and Margaret told 
them of a Phebe bird’s nest she had been watching, 


WELCOME. 


137 


and how the sparrows had driven it away; and 
Mark had a story of a kingbird, and Mrs. Kender- 
dine was sure she had heard a Mary bird : for the 
call was a perfect Ma-ry, Ma-ry. 

“ O, Mark, tell them about our hermit,” suggest- 
ed Margaret; “ did you know, Miss Henderson, that 
Mansfield has a hermit ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Marigold, although Margaret 
had seemed to appeal to Tanzy, “ and Tanzy says 
we must go to see him to-day ; the golden sceptre 
is extended to us to-day, and we must take advan- 
tage of it and make all our calls. Mrs. Kenderdine, 
the truth is, papa is so careful of us, that he will 
not let us go about, — I suppose we should do wild 
things,” she added, excusingly. 

“ But to-day,” said Tanzy, taking up the thread, 
“ he promised not to ask us questions to-night ; the 
hermit is on our list ; please, tell us all about him 
and how to get to him. Will it be wrong for us to 
go alone ? ” 

“I went alone,” said Mark, seriously, pressing the 
ferns down into the tall jar. 

The girls laughed, and Tanzy wondered how to 
frame her next question ; although she was queen 
of the day as far as the golden sceptre was concerned. 


138 


FOURFOLD, 


it would not beseem her queenly dignity to ask 
Dr. Kenderdine to become her escort. 

I know the way/’ he said, his lips answering to 
the twinkle in his eyes. I could show somebody 
the way.” 

But we can’t all go/’ considered Margaret. 

Miss Tanzy spoke first ; I will take her and 
then come back for you.” 

Not the same day/’ cried Marigold. I think it 
is Tanzy’s day.” 

How about your day^ Miss Marigold ? ” asked 
Mark. 

Tanzy cares more than I do. Papa will give me 
a day another time.” 

You mustn’t think papa is — ” began truthful 
Tanzy, you mustn’t think he is — too particular, 
only we do think so when we are cross.” 

And we are often cross,” acknowledged Mari- 
gold. 

Mrs. Kenderdine was listening with all her amuse- 
ment and interest in her face. Said Madame de 
Stael, Animated, and yet reposeful is what I should 
like to be, and never shall be.” Without being at all 
aware of it, the missionary’s wife had attained the 
coveted wish of the brilliant French author. 


WELCOME. 


139 


Dr. Kenderdine, please, tell us about him/’ said 
Tanzy. I have read of hermits.” 

Peter, for instance,” he replied ; but this old 
man is a very commonplace hermit, after all; rather 
striking in appearance, as simple as a child. He 
will uncover his boxes and discover his wealth of 
pebbles, and tell you, as he lays his trembling hand 
upon them, that they are all gold and silver, and he 
is saving them to buy -his farm back again. His 
story is that he vras wronged out of it by a rich iron 
man ; but it is possible that his wrongs are the 
workings of a disordered brain. His grand- 
daughter, Lucinda — Cinder, Miss Lynn calls her 
very often — lives not far from him, and visits him 
morning and night ; he walks to the village store 
and exchanges his pebbles for his simple needs ; he 
moved very feebly to-day, and there was something 
in his countenance that would startle any one who 
understands it. Miss Lynn said he had heart trouble, 
and I advised her not to allow him to stay there 
alone. It would be very lonely for the girl there 
at night, too. Some man ought to be with him.” 

Lucinda is from the Orphan Asylum, and very 
pretty and ladylike,” explained Margaret; she was 
adopted by Miss Lynn, but then she does the work 


140 


FOURFOLD, 


of a servant. If her grandfather had not been 
cheated^ it would have been so different for her.^^ 
She has learned dressmaking, and sews for the 
village people. I omitted that in my story. A 
niece of Miss Lynn — I saw her sewing at the win- 
dow — came from the West three years ago, and has 
in a measure taken her place in the household. 
Miss Lynn did not say it plainly, but the niece is 
anxious to be rid of the adopted child, and the old 
lady is rather doubtful what to do. She thinks her 
only brother’s only child ought to have the first 
place in her affections and her farm, and yet she is 
not ready to cast off faithful Cinder.” 

I would cast myself off,” said indignant Margaret. 

You did not tell us that. She can support herself. 
Mother, do we not need some sewing done ? ” 

Not with your skillful fingers always ready.” 
We do,” said Marigold. Nurse’s eyes have 
been weak this summer, and mamma told her to find 
a seamstress.” 

I will see mamma before I go,” decided Tanzy. 

We might have her a month and longer — as long 
as we stay, perhaps. We took our flowers in to 
show her, Mrs. Kenderdine, and found poor papa 
gone up-stairs with orders not to disturb him all 


WELCOME. 


141 


day. He often sleeps all day. So he will not 
drive with us this afternoon^ and mamma never 
goes anywhere without him. We will be so glad if 
you will go with us and Miss Margaret. The car- 
riage is as easy as a cradle. Papa has to have 
everything easy for his back and side. Our time is 
between four and seven, but we will gladly change 
it, as you wish.^^ 

O, mother ! exclaimed Margaret, in grateful 
delight. I thank you so much. Miss Tanzy.’^ 

Then you will go,^’ chimed in Marigold. We 
were so afraid you wouldn’t. I told Tanzy she 
must ask. She knows how to coax.” 

‘‘ You are very kind. You do not need to coax,” 
said Mrs. Kenderdine. ‘‘ I do not allow myself to 
long for anything when I can help it. But I have 
been thinking of a drive to-day.” 

Miss Tanzy, she always gets what she thinks 
of,” said Mark. She is more like the widow and 
the oil and meal than any one I know.” 

Tanzy’s question was in her eyes. Marigold 
asked if it were a fairy story. 

Something like one,” said Mark. She had 
enough for one time, and always cooked it, and yet 
it never failed. It was always there.” 


142 


FOURFOLD. 


That is a fairy story/^ said Marigold, unless 
she did something to get iV^ 

^^She did/^ Mrs. Kenderdine hastened to say. 

She kept a boarder, and was paid in oil and 
meal.’^ 

^^The boarder was a prophet, said Margaret, 

and that was the reason.^’ 

0,’^ exclaimed Tanzy, enlightened, is tha 
what faith is ? ’’ 

“ That is what faith gets,^’ replied Mrs. Kender- 
dine. 

‘‘ I had a friend in Rome, who knew about faith, 
said Tanzy, but she died.^’ 

Margaret stepped in at the window, and returning 
in a moment placed in Tanzy^s hand a photograph 
framed in purple velvet. Tanzy’s surprise and 
pleasure brought Marigold to her side. 

Susie Hartwell!” she said, just like yours. 
Tan.” 

‘‘ She was my cousin,” Margaret said; but I did 
not know her except by letter ; she was an Ameri- 
can girl, and I was born in India. She was abroad 

when we came, and then ” 

Now I remember. Tan. We knew we had 
heard the name Kenderdine somewhere, and we 


WELCOME, 


143 


couldn’t think. What a little place this round world 
is ! We often meet people who have met other peo- 
ple.” 

Mark had taken a turn on the piazza. He came 
back to ask Tanzy when she would be ready to 
visit the hermit, 

I wish I could take him something.” 

You can, O, Tan ! ” cried Marigold; don’t you 
remember that tin box of pebbles that nurse guards 
in memory of our childhood? We woidd insist, Mrs. 
Kenderdine, upon picking up pebbles everywhere, 
and these were picked up on the Mediterranean 
coast. Small dark things ! just the things to please 
him. Tan.” 

^^Do you know where they are ?” 

saw the box this morning, on a shelf in the 
store-room. We both cried because papa said ^non- 
sense,’ don’t you remember ? and nurse promised to 
bring them to Daisy Fields.” 

We shall be heartily welcomed, then ; I had 
not thought of such an open sesame,” said Mark. 

Miss Margaret will go too ?” asked Tanzy, turn- 
ing to Margaret, 

0 yes,” promised Mark, and Miss Marigold 
shall stay with you, Aunt May.” 


144 


FOURFOLD. 


Not before luncb/^ demurred Margaret* 

It isn^t half a mile ; and it is not yet eleven/^ 
said Mark^ looking at his watch; the box of peb- 
bles and the errand to Miss Lucinda, shall be my 
excuse for two calls in one morning ; beside, I do 
want to impress upon Miss Lynn that the old man 
must not stay alone to-night. 

Tanzy arose and stood hesitating; would papa 
object, she wondered; would he call this ^insubor- 
dination ? She must give the old man the box of 
pebbles, and she must do something for the girl, who 
had nothing to inherit from her wronged grandfather 
but bits of worthless stone. 

She stood perplexed, her eyes dropped, the color 
deepening in cheek and brow. Did those brothers 
do such things after they left their father to follow 
Jesus Christ ? 

Mrs. Kenderdine,^^ lifting her eyes in sudden 
appeal, is it always difficult to know what to 
do — after one has decided to follow J esus Christ I 
We can always ask him, dear.^^ 

But I do not know how.^^ 

I know how.’^ 

Can I find it in his New Testament ? 

Yes.'' 


WELCOME, 


145 


Mark looked at the girl that Susie Hartwell 
loved, and did not wonder that she loved her. 

Well,’^ with a sigh that was half hopeful, I 
must decide now about the hermit and Lucinda, 
and I decide to go. I will tell papa to-night, and 
I know mamma will be glad to have her come and 


XL 


ELEVEN O^CLOCK. 

human heart is a skein of such imperceptibly and 
subtly interwoven threads, that even the owner of it is often 
himself at a loss how to unravel it.” 

The clothes were hanging on the line^ the tubs 
emptied^ the floor of the shed mopped, and it was 
not yet eleven o^clock. 

Lucinda had kindled the fire that morning while 
the quail in the apple orchard was calling Bob 
White — ^before five o’clock. The ironing must be 
done that afternoon, and she had to make over the 
overskirt of her last year’s blue gingham, that it 
might look new and fresh to wear to the picnic to- 
morrow. 

The clock in the sitting-room struck eleven as 
she hung up the mop. The picked up ” wash- 
day dinner was the next thing, and the trip up to 
the woods with grandfather’s rice and milk. Miss 

Lynn had gone into the sitting-room to take off her 
( 146 ) 


ELEVEN CLOCK. 


147 


shoes to rest her feet; and lean back in her grand- 
mother’s old rocker to rest her back, and to talk to 
her niece, Maria, about being a little more kind 
to poor Cinder,” as she had put it to herself a 
dozen times that morning since she awoke and 
heard Lucinda going down-stairs. 

While Lucinda was stepping about the kitchen, 
warming over the cold potatoes, slicing yesterday’s 
roast, and scantily filling four saucers with the 
remnant of yesterday’s bread pudding, Miss Lynn, 
her adopted aunt,” was framing a touching appeal 
to Maria’s supposed kind-heartedness. 

Maria did not look particularly susceptible to 
appeals to her kind-heartedness, as she sat at the 
window, fussing with unskilled fingers over the 
trimming of the waist of ber new white dress. She 
was cross because the Torchon lace was too narrow, 
and such a cheap imitation, and besides she had not 
half enough ; but she must wear white, because 
Hoyt Way land had told her, last night, walking 
home from church, that she was as pretty as a pink 
in white, and had promised her a long drive in his 
new buggy on the long way around ” home from 
the picnic grounds. 

Hoyt Way land had a farm of one hundred acres. 


148 


FOURFOLD. 


with a good house and barns in nice order, and six 
horses and a new buggy; the only thing he had that 
she did not like was that old mother, as active as 
ever, and always trotting about the kitchen, and 
talking as if she owned everything ; she did not like 
old women ; Aunt Mary Ann was a bother, and this 
old woman was older and more of a bother than 
Aunt Mary Ann. Hoyt Way land had taken Lucin- 
da to the picnic last year ; he used to walk home 
with her from church too, before she came. She 
had not done anything, she was sure ; she could not 
help it if he gradually paid Lucinda less and less at- 
tention, and paid her more and more ; he could not 
help knowing that she was the real niece, and Lu- 
cinda nobody but an Orphan Asylum girl with a 
crazy grandfather. Axmt*’Mary Ann^s farm would 
be hers, and she had told him so ; Lucinda had no 
real claim upon anything ; she might be thankful that 
she had been so well taken care of, and a good trade 
and all given to her ; and now that she was old 
enough and able to go away and support herself, 
why should she not go % Aunt Mary Ann was too 
fond of her, and had spoiled her ; that was the only 
trouble; but Aunt Mary Ann was weak, and easily 
influenced, and too just to defraud her brother's 


ELEVEN CLOCK, 


149 


child for the sake of an Orphan Asylum girl. 

Aunt Mary Ann was weak, and she was painfully 
conscious of it, as she sat opposite the determined 
face fussing over the lace ; she cleared her throat 
twice before she could say that Cinder was all 
through with the washing. 

It’s about time,” answered Maria, taking a pin 
out of her mouth to fasten the lace in a new place to 
try the effect. 

Aunt Mary Ann shifted her tired feet and re- 
marked that Cinder was down at daybreak. 

Is that anything new ? ” was the reply.- Auntie, 
I haven’t half enough lace ; I wish I could go to 
town for two yards more. This will look very 
scrimpy.” 

Sam is plowing.” 

Sam is always plowing ; I don’t see why you 
can’t afford an extra horse. Can’t he do something 
else this afternoon and let me have J ess % ” 

Jess was lame this morning.” 

Jack, then.” 

He says you are always wanting a horse.” 

Well, aren’t the horses yours ? Is your hired 
man the master in your house ? ” 

He is accountable for getting the crops in, and 


150 


FOURFOLD. 


he feels it ; he has been faithful ten years ; he was 
with me before Cinder came.’’ 

^^She thinks she owns everything, too. I shouldn’t 
think you would like to have your servants ride 
over your head in your old age.” 

Cinder is not a servant,” replied Miss Lynn, 
with some sharpness. 

She does the work of one, then.” 

That’s because she is so faithful.” This was the 
opportunity of Cinder’s friend, and she hastened to 
seize upon it. When Miss Lynn talked, she talked 
rapidly, her words poured out in a torrent of adjec- 
tives. One of her boarders last summer remarked 
that she had as full a command of adjectives as Ku- 
fus Choate — ^with this difference, that hers were re- 
peated. 

She’s as faithful and good and neat and clever 
a girl as you can find in this county; and as pretty, 
with her bright eyes and the red in her cheeks, and 
her hair crinkling, especially when she’s heated over 
the hot stove ; and she has a knack at fixing herself 
up that every girl hasn’t ! Look at her dresses, as 
tasty as any city lady’s, and fitting like a glove ; she 
looks dressed in anything.” 

Because you have humored her so ; think of a 


ELEVEN 0^ CLOCK, 


151 


girl like her having a summer silk, fifty cents a yard, 
trimmed with velvet, too.’^ 

That was a special treat; that was because she 
was so faithful that winter. I had rheumatic fever ; 
sixteen weeks I couldn’t move hand or foot, and 
three months my right hand was so crooked and 
bent, and fingers twisted, that I couldn’t feed my- 
self ; if it hadn’t been for Cinder and her grandfa- 
ther, I’m sure I don’t know where I should be now ; 
she rubbed me, and he rubbed me, and Dr. Minturn 
said the rubbing saved my hand ; they rubbed hard 
and they rubbed soft, and they rubbed night and 
day, and she lifted me up and set me down and fed 
me like the baby that I was ; a poor, little, sick, 
cross, groaning baby, with no mother but her ! 
She’s a born nurse, the doctor said, young as she 
was, and her feet never got tired, nor her aching back, 
nor her sleepless eyes, and she never said one cross, 
or one impatient, or one disrespectful word to me.” 

Of course not,” snapped Maria, she knew on 
what side her bread was buttered.” 

It wasn’t buttered any side half the time, for 
she never would take time to eat. And she pro- 
posed taking boarders herself to pay off the mort- 
gage — she was only seventeen, too — and she gave up 


152 


FOURFOLD, 


school summers, and only went in the winter, for 
my poor, old sake, and because she loved the old 
place my father left to me. Nobody knows how she 
got up early and went to bed late, and had no help 
but a washerwoman and a little girl to wash dishes 
and clean knives ; and she proposed the new cham- 
bers to be made, so we might have sleeping-rooms 
enough, and the pretty piazza for the boarders 
to sit and talk on ; and it was because of her that 
old rich Mrs. Newton stayed winters and paid 
summer board, and she waited on her till she died ; 
and that lame Mr. Graham came in May and 
stayed through October, and paid seven dollars a 
week ; and we could fill the house this summer if 
you wasn’t so set against it, and have money to put 
in the bank this winter.” 

I am set against it. I hate boarders. Where 
did I sleep last summer ? And it looks as though 
you had to, and you don’t have to, now that the 
mortgage is paid off and the house fixed up. That 
old man is boarder enough. She gives him cream 
by the cupful, and she actually asked the butcher 
for beef to make him beef-tea.” 

She paid for it herself. She gets a dollar 
every day she sews.” 


ELEVEN 0^ CLOCK, 


153 


It^s a pity she didn^t sew every day, then. 
That missionary family will give her work, perhaps, 
and the Hendersons are home, and they always 
want somebody to do something for them. Lucinda 
might get a chance as waitress with them. You 
say she looks so pretty in her white aprons. She 
might put a frilled white cap over her crinkling 
hair, and be a nurse-girl.’^ 

Mrs. Jansen did want her for a nurse. She 
would have taken her to Europe this summer, but I 
wouldn’t let her go.” 

You’d better let her go next time,” said Maria, 
biting off a thread. 

She is uneasy and discontented. She didn’t 
use to be. She used to be as playful and frisky as 
a lamb. I notice she gives sharp answers, and 
yesterday, when she came down from the old man’s, 
I could see she had had a crying speU. I guess 
she saw the Banner. I hid it away. I don’t see 
who ever wrote that Mansfield letter to the Banner ^ 
and put in all about her demented, crazy old grand- 
father, and his boxes of stones, and his heart 
disease, and that story of his farm in Missouri. 
There’s nothing disgraceful about the way he lives. 
I give him the rent of the old house, and Cinder 


154 


FOURFOLD. 


pays his bills at the store^ and mends his clothes. 
His craziness is a visitation of Providence, and 
plenty of folks are cheated by rich men in this 
cheating world. I don’t see who had the heart to 
do it, knowing her loyalty and devotion to him. 
And how she loves his poor white hairs, and washes 
his poor feet down on her knees, and makes him up 
a clean bed every Saturday. Hoyt Wayland does 
write the Mansfield letter sometimes, because he 
allowed as much, and he’s been to a business 
college, so, of course, he knows how. But he 
wouldn’t hurt Cinder’s feelings for half his farm, I 
used to think they was engaged. He made her a 
ring out of gutta percha when they went to school 
together, and always used to come to take her to 
choir meeting. But she seems to have thrown him 
off this last year. I hope she hasn’t got any high 
notions. He is a member of the church, and so 
kind to his old and aged mother; and in his 
father’s last sickness, couldn’t do enough for the old 
man. But he is reckless with horses. I’ve seen 
that white colt of his stand up on his hind legs. I 
guess I’ll tell her she needn’t iron this afternoon if 
she wants to fix her dress.” 

With a groan Miss Lynn arose and limped across 


ELEVEN 0^ CLOCK. 


155 


the rag-carpeted floor. Opening the door into the 
kitchen, she heard the sound of animated voices. 
She drew back and shuffled with her loose slippers. 

Maria/^ in a loud whisper, it sounds like 
that young missionary doctor^ s voice. I guess he 
wants that ice.’^ 

Ask him if they dofflt want somebody to sew;^’ 
proposed Maria, hurriedly, Lucinda can go any 
day, and Iffl do the housework. Aunt Mary 
Ann.^’ 

Perhaps it would chirk her up a bit,^^ said Aunt 
Mary Ann, kindly ; but I don’t believe she would 
leave her grandfather,” 

Yes, she would. She said this morning that 
she must get him some blankets and a pair 
of soft slippers. She makes a baby of the crazy 
old man.” 


xn. 


DE. KENDEEDINE’s FIEST PATIENT. 

I have sped by land and sea, and mingled with much 
people ; but never yet could find a spot unsunned by human 
kindness.” 

Miss Lynn heard the missionary doctor^s 
voice at the shed door. Under the tall pine near 
the shed door two girls were standing, one of them 
with something shining in her hand. At a second 
glance Miss Lynn’s eyes, aided by her spectacles, 
recognized the doctor’s little sister and one of the 
stylish ” Henderson girls. She had known the Hen- 
derson girls by sight since they were children, and 
her father had sold that old money-getter Abram 
Nicholson, the land on which he had built his hand- 
some house forty years ago. You could not tell her 
anything about those Hendersons, although she had 
never spoken to any of the present genera- 
tion. 


( 156 ) 


DR. KENDERDINE^S FIRST PATIENT. 157 

Old Abram Nicholson had iaken a walk up to the 
old house and said it would be a quiet place for a 
man to die in when he was disgusted with the 
world. But he had died at Daisy Fields, and she 
never heard whether or not he were disgusted with 
the world. 

Full of reminiscence, she pulled off her apron and 
hurried out to tell the dark Henderson girl what she 
remembered of her grandfather. But the young man 
with his hat in his hand was talking to Lucinda, 
and she stopped half-way to listen. 

“ Miss Lucinda,” he was saying to the girl, who 
stood at a table with a yellow bowl in her hand, I 
went home with my story about your grandfather, 
and my deep interest in him, and these girls. Miss 
Henderson, and my cousin. Miss Kenderdine, asked 
if they might return with me. I have brought some- 
thing to relieve that tightness over the heart that he 
spoke of this morning, and Miss Henderson has 
something from the shores of the Mediterranean that 
she would like to give him.” 

Lucinda^s surprise was not unmixed with pleas- 
ure ; her grandfather had long ceased to excite sym- 
pathy in the village ; he was only old Dennis, who 
worked when he could for Miss Lynn, and when she 


158 


FOURFOLD, 


had no work for him^ picked up an odd job among 
the farmers; he was melancholy and silent, and 
had never shown any friendliness. 

Oh yes, please/^ said Tanzy, stepping shyly 
forward, and sliding the cover from her box ; they 
are only pebbles ; my sister and I picked them up 
when we were little and liked such things, and Nurse 
was so good as to pack them up for us ; papa used 
to throw them away. If he is a collector, and cares 
for foreign stones, I think he may care for these. 
Of course we picked up the prettiest ones. Will he 
like them, do you think ? she asked, with pretty 
appeal to the old man’s granddaughter. 

Yes, very much,” Lucinda replied, with a look 
that went to Tanzy’s heart, setting down the yellow 
bowl, and taking several of the smooth, dark stones 
into her hand, he will be delighted ; he told me 
I never found smooth ones.” 

Did you ever try on the sea-shore ? ” asked 
Tanzy. 

Sea-shore ! ” Lucinda laughed. I never saw 
the sea-shore in my life. I have never been any- 
where.” 

And you have been everywhere, I hear,” in- 
terrupted Miss Lynn’s voice, as she pushed herself 


DR. KENDERDINE' S FIRST PATIENT. 159 

in between the girls. I remember your great- 
grandfather. He was a handsome old man^ hand- 
some till the last^ but they said he was melancholy 
before he died.’^ 

^^ He died when I was so little, that I do not re- 
member him; but he was very fond of us, and 
named me after my great-grandmother. She died 
years and years ago.^’ 

Cinder ! 

The loose slippers shuffled across the floor to the 
table upon which stood the cold roast, and the four 
saucers of bread pudding. 

You go right up with them, and take your 
grandfather's dinner ; Maria will set the dinner ta- 
ble, and I'll see to the other things." 

If it will not be an intrusion — " began Mark. 

Oh, no, not at all," invited Miss Lynn, you 
can every one of you, as well as not." 

I was asking only for myself; he looked so ill 
that I am sorry I left him at all. You said he would 
not have a doctor, but I thought he might let me 
stay as nurse." 

Lucinda dropped the pebbles back into the box ; 
she went to the stove with the yellow bov/1 in her 
hand, and dipped some hot rice into it; Tanzy 


160 


FOURFOLD. 


watched her, wondering if she felt as hurt as she 
would feel, if strangers came to bring things to her 
grandfather. 

He has looked like that since yesterday morn- 
ing,^^ said Lucinda, with something of the hurt in 
her face and voice. 

Cinder, don^t forget the milk,’^ cautioned Miss 
Lynn. 

He has milk; he keeps the can of milk on the 
hearth to keep it cool.’^ 

^^He never would have a doctor,^’ apologized 
Miss Lynn, turning to Mark; ^^he wouldn^t last 
winter when he had to sit in his chair all night, to 
breathe easy. Cinder can^t coax him down to 
the house, she has been trying ever since he has 
been so feeble. We shan^t have boarders this sum- 
mer, I^m too worn out, and Maria don^t like them, 
and Cinder wants to get some dressmaking done ; 
she^s a master hand at it, if I do say so, and has 
sewed for the Jansens, and so the old man can have 
a cool room.^^ 

^^He will not come,’^ said Lucinda, positively; 

he cried last night when I tried to coax him, and 
asked me to read the psalm about the Lord being 
our dwelling-place in all generations. He thi n ks 


DR. KENDERDINE^ S FIRST PATIENT. 101 

ills nioii6|y is safer there^ and. he thinks grandmother 
knows he is there^ and will come and find hi m . 
The box of pebbles will brighten him up, more 
than anything; he will like that handsome box. 
He said yesterday, he could not stoop over to pick 
up any more, and he has not enough yet.^^ 

JVTay I pick them up for him ? asked Tanzy. 
I cannot get any like these until we go to the sea- 
shore, but I will express another box to him. I 
wish he could go himself; don^t you think, Mr. 
Kenderdine, that the sea air would do him good ? 
she inquired, earnestly. I love salt air.^^ 

Lucinda s smile was a little dreary ; the sea- shore 
seemed as far off to her as heaven, and it was far- 
ther oflF to him. 

Ho ; it is too late for any change to benefit 
him,^^ answered Mark. 

Would you like to go up and take the peb- 
bles ? ” asked Lucinda, with a glance at Tanzy j ^^it 
is a pretty walk up the lane. I would like you to 
see how glad he will be— if he is not as drowsy as 
he was yesterday. I am not used to having any 
one kind to him but Auntie.” 

Oh, pooh, now,” ejaculated Auntie. 

‘‘ Thank you,” Tanzy replied; « if he will not be 


162 


FOURFOLD 


troubled, I would like to see if he is pleased, and 
would like to have another box. Gold thought of 
it — Marigold, my sister — and she will be so pleased.’^ 
Cinder, hurry up, your rice will be all cold,^^ 
warned Miss Lynn. hope it is cooked soft 

enough, for he hasn’t a tooth in his head to chew 
hard grains of rice with. Don’t hurry back, unless 
you get himgry for your own dinner; you might 
take a piece to eat on the way ; perhaps the doctor 
can persuade him to come down ; tell him the stove 
is out in the shed, and the kitchen chamber isn’t 
made suffocating hot with it now ; be sure to tell 
him that, for he always fussed dreadfully about 
that close room, and not being able to catch his 
breath any more than if he was in a baker’s oven. 
It was on accoimt of that hot kitchen chamber that 
he took to the woods ; but I couldn’t spare him any 
other, with my house full of boarders, and Cinder, 
here, slept in the attic, which was just as bad, so 
she had no room to give up to him, and Maria said 
he wasn’t her flesh and blood, and she wouldn’t give 
hers and mine up to him ; and so he got disgusted 
with the world, and took up his quarters up in the 
free, wild woods, where you can breathe as much as 
you like. He likes the woods.” 


DR, KENDERDINE^S FIRST PATIENT. 


So do said Tansy, hastening to assure Lu- 
cinda by her words and tone, that her grandfather 
was not so uncomfortably peculiar as one might 
think, I stay in the woods for hours. 

And you like pebbles, too,’^ added Miss Lynn. 

Don’t you go and get crazy ; you don’t think stones 
are gold, though,” she tittered, you’ve got enough 
without.” 

I hope my gold will be as innocent as his 
pebbles,” said Tanzy. I am so afraid of money 
doing harm. I am almost afraid of money ; it has 
not been a blessing to me.” 

Who told you that % ” asked Mark. 

Susie Hartwell.” 

^^I’d like to have a little to try,” said Miss 
Lynn with a tittering laugh. Cinder and I work- 
ed dreadful hard to get this place clear. My father 
left it encumbered with a mortgage. W^e country 
folks do not see much gold and silver. Cinder has 
had precious little of it. It has never hurt her / and 
lots more wouldn’t : for she knows how hard it 
comes.” 

Then her temptation would be to hoard,” said 
Margaret, stepping nearer and speaking for the first 
time ; ‘‘ what a philosophical talk you are having !’^ 


164 


FOURFOLD, 


“ That^s my fault/^ admitted Tanzy. “ Papa 
says I am always saying uncomfortable things.^^ 

think you say comforting things/^ said 
Lucinda, who had fallen in love with this frank, 
half shy, wholly delightful, sympathetic girl, whom 
she had admired for years in her passing 
glimpses of her on the lawn at Daisy Fields, 
or driving with her father and mother and sister, 
without ever dreaming that she might some day 
speak to her. 

You had better go,’^ reminded Miss Lynn, who 
did not enjoy conversation when she was not chief 
speaker. That rice will be cold, and he doesnT like 
it cold. You can go, too,^^ indicating Margaret with 
a nod towards her. That house is historic, if 
things happening in a house make history. Maria 
wants to have it torn down, and I think I shall 
next year. It encourages tramps, and old Dennis 
is the last tramp I want in it.’^ 

Lucinda colored, and again Tanzy was hurt for 
her. 

She was tempted to speak, but what could she 
saa ? It was very dreadful to have one’s grand- 
father a tramp. 

Up the narrow path Mark led the way, Margaret 


DR. KENDERDINE' S FIRST PATIENT. 


following ; Tanzj and Lucinda^ as if drawn together, 
lingering, and walking slowly side by side. The nar- 
row path ran across the pasture lot, and there Mark 
found a fence and bars to be let down. Over the 
bars they stepped into the lane through which the 
cows were driven morning and night ; Mark and 
Margaret still kept ahead, Abram Nicholson^s 
great-granddaughter, with her tin box of pebbles, 
and the granddaughter of Theophilus Dennis with 
her yellow bowl of rice walking side by side, and 
talking so interestingly that the others smiled at the 
sound of their rapid tones. 

Tanzy can talk fast enough,’^ said Margaret. 

She has taken to that girl,” replied Mark. 

I do not wonder. She has character ; she is self- 
reliant ; she has self-control ; she lives for something.” 

It is better for her, perhaps, that her grand- 
father has hoarded pebbles instead of money. If 
every pebble were a dollar, she would have a 
fortune. Those we see in his boxes in his closet 
are only a part of his pickings.” 

Tanzy was saying : have seen you a great many 

times ; I used to make stories about your life and 
tell Gold. You always looked contented ; we used 
to wish to be village girls.” 


166 


FOURFOLD. 


And I used to wish to be the dark Henderson 
girl ; Maria wished she were your sister, when she 
saw you driving yesterday. I wish you would come 
to church sometimes ; you would like our minister. 
We have a pretty church, with a new pulpit. 

I wish so, too ; but we never go to church ; 
papa is not willing. I think it must help people.^^ 

It does,^^ said Lucinda, simply. 

And girls are members of your churches ! I 
like that. I had a friend who was a member of a 
church. Are you ? 

Oh yes ; I have been since I was seventeen.^^ 

What do you have to do ? 

I do not understand you.^’ 

mean, can anybody be a member? Don^t 
you have to know something or do something ? 
Papa doesn’t let us read religious books, so I know 
very little about it.” 

We have to believe ” 

But how could she explain to this girl who knew 
so little ? Perhaps she had never even read the 
Bible. 

Gh, I know, you have to follow Jesus Christ like 
Simon and Andrew and James and John. Did you 
have to leave any one ? ” 


DR. KENDERDINKS FIRST PATIENT. 167 

I had no one to leave. Grandfather was glad ; 
he used to go to Communion before he got so be- 
wildered about things, and Auntie wanted me to. I 
had nothing hard to do,^^ 

I should have every hard thing to do ; I think 
it would be almost impossible, so I must not think 
about it. Gold doesn^t care as I do ; nobody else 
cares. Do you have to know all about the New 
Testament ? 

We read it and study HP 

Isn^t it the most wonderful book ever written 
exclaimed Tanzy, enthusiastically. I couldn’t go 
to sleep last night for thinking about it.” 

Eebuked, Lucinda was silent ) never had she been 
kept awake by the wonderfulness of the New Testa- 
ment ; but she knew she could not live without it ; 
once when she was discouraged she had not opened 
it for a whole month, and what a dreary month it 
had been. 

My life would be very different without it,” was 
her quiet reply. 

I would like to see what you quoted — it is such 
a fine thought : ^ Our dwelling place in all genera- 
tions.^” 

That is in Psalms.” 


168 


FOURFOLD, 


Isn^t that the New Testament ? 

No : that is the Old Testament/^ replied Lucin- 
da^ steadying her lips into grave lines. 

Oh, are there two ? Is the other about the 
same people ? 

Oh, no, not at all.’^ 

Isn’t it about Jesus Christ at all % ” 

Lucinda was struck with the tone with which this 
strange girl spoke the name of Jesus Christ ; it was 
as if she had said Washington, or Moses, or Lincoln, 
her usual tone, but in admiration and eagerness. 

Oh yes: but not in the same way; the Old 
Testament is prophecy, the New is fulfilment.” 

Why, did they know he was coming before he 
came — and expect him ? ” asked Tanzy, with eyes 
aglow. 

Yes. The New Testament is only half, with- 
out the Old.” 

Then I’ll buy an Old Testament, too.” 

They are both in one book, you know, the 
Bible,” Lucinda explained, rather ashamed of her- 
self for thinking it necessary ; but it would be so 
queer for her to ask in a book store for the Old Tes- 
tament. 

Now I understand.” 


DR. KENDERDINE^S FIRST PATIENT. 109 

Miss Henderson did not seem at all embarrassed; 
she did not seem to know how ignorant she was ; 
the little girls in her Sunday-school class would 
think her questions the funniest they ever heard ; 
and then Lucinda was ashamed that she felt herself 
smiling. 

Your grandfather has a Bible ? 

^^Oh yes; he brought it from Missouri; his father 
gave it to him when he was married^ and my birth 
and my mother’s is in the family record.” 

Written in the Bible ? We haven’t any family 
record. What else do you write in it ? ” 

Grandfather has written when his farm was 
sold, but Auntie writes only births and deaths, and 
marriages.” 

As if they were solemn, like the Bible; and they 
are as true as the Bible is, and as solemn. I like to 
read anything that I know is all true, don’t you ? 
It was quite a disappointment to me, when I learned 
that Homer might not be a real man ; wasn’t it to 
you ? ” 

No,” said Lucinda, smiling, I don’t know 
anything about him.” 

Haven’t you a Homer in the house ? ” 

No, I never saw one.” 


V 


170 


FOURFOLD. 


Tanzy was politely silent ; it was queer that she 
didn’t know about Homer. 

^^And don’t you care whether Shakespeare wrote 
Shakespeare ? Papa reads the papers about it to 
me^ and we have arguments^ and I take the Shakes- 
peare side ; I should be so disappointed if it were 
some one else ; papa has read Shakespeare to me 
ever since I could listen, I believe.” 

We have not a Shakespeare in the house, and I 
never read a line of it.” 

We have several copies ; I will lend you mine. 
Has not your grandfather one, either ? ” 

I do not believe he ever read a word of it.” 

How queer people are ! ” cried Tanzy, merrily. 

I suppose country people know the Bible better 
than Shakespeare. I wish I did. Shakespeare 
isn’t truej like the Bible.” 

How far apart they were, walking together ! 
Tanzy did not feel it, at all ; she felt nearer her 
companion at every step ; but Lucinda sighed, think- 
ing that she might never walk with her again. 

I saw your grandfather once with you, walking 
home from church ; papa said he had a fine head.” 

‘‘ He is not what he might have been. He tells 
a story about being wronged — ^taken advantage of, is 


DR, KENDERDINE'^ S FIRST PATIENT. ijl 

more like it, for lie was paid a good price for his 
farm, but the man who bought it knew its real value, 
and poor grandfather did not. Perhaps grand- 
father should have known ; perhaps he had as good 
an opportunity of knowing as the other man ; he 
was young then, and this man was a sharp man at 
making money, and knew something grandfather 
didn^t ; I suppose one man always knows some- 
thing the other doesn% in making a shrewd bargain, 
don^t you ? 

Or else it wouldn’t be a shrewd bargain,” said 
Tansy. I hope I shall never be the one who knows! 
I should never have a happy minute.” 

I used to be bitter ; grandfather made me so 
by telling me how different it might have been if 
he had been the one to get rich out of his own land ; 
but now I think it was because his mind was not 
right ; thinking of it night and day made him worse, 
and his weak mind made thinking of it harder to 
bear j I used to hate the man who did well for him- 
self 5 then I got over it.” 

How ? I don’t believe I could get over hating 
any one who deserved to be hated.” 

I prayed about it,” was the low answer. 

Did that help ? ” 


172 


FOURFOLD. 


It didn’t help ; it did it all.” 

Prayer must be powerful to work changes like 
that.” 

It was not the prayer ; it was God answering 
the prayer/’ said Lucinda, who was afraid that the 
girl who had not read the Bible might misunder- 
stand. 

But he did it because you prayed.” 

He has promised to do things because we pray.” 

Has he ? KeaUy promised ? ” 

Keally promised,” repeated Lucinda, the prom- 
ise meaning more to her because it meant so much 
to one learning it for the first time. 

Promised, so that he would toll a lie if he didn’t 
keep his word ? ” 

Again Lucinda was startled ; how dared she speak 
so of God ? 

He cannot lie,” she answered gravely. 

I knew it, and that’s why I wanted to know if 
it were a real, not-to-be-broken promise ; not con- 
ditional.” 

Oh, it is conditional.” 

What are the conditions ? ” 

You will find them in the New Testament.” 

* I expect to read it to-night. I am glad your 


DR, RTENDERDINB S FIRST PATIENT. I73 

grandfather has his Bible ; perhaps that man who 
knew had no Bible. Do youVish you knew his 
name ? 

^‘No, because I might meet some one who be- 
longed to him and was rich, and I should have to 
pray very hard. — I want so much, I am covetous 
sometimes.’^ 

Doesn^t your grandfather know ? 

I don’t know ; he never calls him by name ; he 
said once, God knew it, and would judge him.” 

^^That is true,” decided Tanzy, solemnly. 

I would rather God would forgive him,” said 
Lucinda. 

“ But I think he ought to be punished, too.” 

He must be dead ; he was older than grandfa- 
ther — he had to think before he died.” 

I hope he did, and suffered ! He must have 
suffered if he thought God wouldn’t forgive him. I 
should think it would have been in the papers ; such 
stories are always in the papers ; papa reads them, 
and he says poor people are envious, and always 
imagining they are cheated. But I don’t believe 
they always imagine it ; for wicked men do cheat.” 

Grandfather was never in the paper but once,” 
said Lucinda, in the hard voice of one who had not 


174 


FOURFOLD. 


forgiven, That was last week; his story, all any- 
body knows, came out in the Mansfield letter to the 
JBanner, Some one wrote it who knew more than 
anybody about him ; some very things I told myself 
to somebody I trusted.’^ 

Oh dear ! ’’ cried Tanzy ; then somebody has 
wronged you, too. Nobody ever wronged me ; papa 
says that is what he is keeping us away from.’^ 

Girls do need fathers,” said Lucinda, with the 
longing for father-shelter in her heart. Your 
father loves you. I saw him once put a red shawl 
around you in the carriage ; I think I envied you 
then.” 

Would she envy her, Tanzy wondered, if she 
knew that she dreaded his anger to-night, even 
after his promise, for this walk she was taking with 
her? 

‘‘ Don’t envy me, ever ; I am not a happy girl,” 
cried Tanzy, vehemently. I want to do things I 
cannot do — as much as you do ; and I do not hope 
to, and perhaps you can. The more I know of the 
New Testament, the more I shall have to leave my 
father, for he thinks it is fanatical and over-strained 
and crazy to take it literally, and I do not know any 
other way.” 


DR, KENDERDINE>S FIRST PATIENT, 175 

What is the other way ? ' 

I suppose he knows, and thinks he does that 
way.’^ 

People do interpret differently/^ Lucinda re- 
plied, charitably. 

But it sounds so plain and strong,’^ said bewil- 
dered Tanzy. I shall take it as it says, or give it 
up.'' 

Oh, don't give it up," pleaded Lucinda. 

I shall not, unless I have to." 

What could make you have to ? " 

Papa thinks he can." 

He isn't first." 

That's what he says ; I shall learn that he isn't 
first." 

Doesn't he want you to learn the truth ? " 

Oh, I don't know ; I get so puzzled and so un- 
happy. But I wanted to ask you about coming to 
sew for us. It makes me imhappy to be philosophi- 
cal. Mamma said I might ask you to come to do 
plain sewing; but I want you to help me in 
changing my dresses. Gold and I have quantities 
of dresses. You are about my height, aren't you ? 
I have some to give you ; I always give my dresses 
away when I can't change them to suit me." 


176 


FOURFOLD, 


Then I must change them to suit you/^ 

But I want you to have some. We gave our 
last dressmaker seven in one day^ and then mamma 
gave her three. I love dressmaking, and I love to 
trim hats ; Tve trimmed dozens. Our sewing room 
is the prettiest place — under the eaves, with the tops 
of trees to look out into ; I keep it in order ; papa 
says I like it too much, and that I ought to be a 
dressmaker and milliner. I get new ideas from 
every dressmaker we have.^^ 

Then you can teach me ; I am only a country 
dressmaker.^^ 

Perhaps I can. I study dresses, and we see 
elegant ones. I can spend more money now, be- 
cause I am twenty-one.^^ 

Do you love dress ? 

It’s silly ; isn’t it ? Perhaps I shall not when 
I have read the New Testament through. Will 
it make a difference, do you think ? ” 

Yes ; I think it will.” 

Should I have to give up a great deal if I took 
it — literally ? ” 

I do not know all you have to give up,” said 
Lucinda, guardedly. 

‘‘ I suppose I couldn’t play chess on Sunday ? ” 


DR, KENDERDINE^S FIRST PATIENT. 177 


Oh ! You don^t do that cried Lucinda^ in 
alarm. 

did yesterday. Papa requires it. We do 
not keep Sunday as people who read the Bible do. 
I suppose we do not keep it at all. I was troubled 
last night. But I do not know how to help it. But I 
will never do it again^ if Jesus Christ commands me 
not.^^ 

Must I sew on Sunday if I come ? questioned 
Lucinda ; because then I cannot come.^^ 

Nurse does when she pleases ; but you shall 
not. You shall keep Sunday in your own way. I 
want to see how you do it. I know how Susie 
Hartwell did. Pd love to do it. When can you 
come ? To-morrow ? 

Not if grandfather is as sick as the doctor says. 
I shall not go to the picnic, either. But I don^t 
care so much for that ; only my little girls will be 
disappointed. I am outgrowing picnics.^^ 

Then when can you come ? 

As soon as I can. I have no other engage- 
ment. Fll come as soon as grandfather can spare me.’^ 
We never had a young girl like you before. I 
shall love to sew with you. Gold won^t. She 
hates sewing. Oh, is this the house ? 


178 


FOURFOLD. 


A torn curtain of bleaclied muslin fluttered at 
one of the windows ; there were but two unbroken 
panes in the two windows ; the uneven boards of the 
floor were swept clean ; before the cot a strip of rag 
carpet had been laid j the cot was covered with a 
gay calico quilt that Lucinda had pieced years ago, 
and quilted last winter especially for her grand- 
father's comfort; the small pillow was encased in 
spotless unbleached muslin ; on the table under the 
window, to catch all the light, was opened the large, 
worn Bible, with a spectacle case across it ; a cup 
and saucer unwashed ; a plate with a broken 
slice of bread upon it, a tin quart, two pewter 
spoons, a knife and a tom napkin completed the poor 
little array of housekeeping. And such a bent, 
white-haired, withered-cheeked, desolate old man 
sitting at the table, waiting for his bowl of rice and 
milk. 

Tanzy stood still on the threshold. It was like 
something she had read about, and it was true. 
There were people like this in the world. 

The closet door stood wide open. There were boxes 
on every shelf, piled with the treasured heaps these 
trembling, bony old hands had picked up, thinking 
they were gold. And he counted them as she had 


DR, KENDERDINE^S FIRST PATIENT. 179 

seen her father count his gold and his bank-notes ; as 
her great-grandfather had counted his gold when 
he was old : for there were boxes of gold in his 
safe, Nurse had told her, and he had said they were 
saved for somebody. That somebody must have 
been herself and Marigold. 

If she might only shift those boxes ! If she might 
have the pebbles for her inheritance, and give 
Lucinda the gold ! 

But what happiness would that bring the old man, 
who was spilling the rice and milk through his fin- 
gers ? 

Timidly she went to his side and placed the un- 
covered box on the table before his eyes. 

O grandfather, see ! see ! cried Lucinda. 

Mark and Margaret stood behind him ; he had 
not noticed their entrance. 

The milk slowly dripped, and the spoon dropped; 
with both outstretched hands, the box was seized 
and held ; but he could not lift it, he bent over it, 
uttering low, joyful cries. Then he shouted weakly, 

It^s enough ! It^s enough ! IVe got it at last ! I 
wanted only one box more. The Lord is my dwell- 
ing place in all generations.^^ 

Tanzy could bear it no longer ; the tears were 


180 


FOURFOLD. 


rolling down her cheeks ; she went out, Mark and 
Margaret following her. 

She stooped near the door to pick a handful of 
tansy and bury her face in it. 

I shall be so uncourteous as to allow you ladies 
to return without me/^ Mark said. I shall not 
leave him again ; he has changed in three hours. 
You have made him very happy, Miss Henderson.^^ 

I wanted to,^^ Tanzy replied, still with her face 
in the tansy. 

Do you like tansy ? asked Margaret. 

It is one of my whims — another one. Vll take 
this to papa to soften him ; I do believe he wishes 
we had stayed little, and been nothing but Marigold 
and Tanzy.^^ 

Margaret and Tanzy walked down the lane to- 
gether ; both were silent ; it was not until they 
were out upon the dusty country road that they be- 
gan to talk. 

This afternoon at four,’^ reminded Tanzy, as 
they stood at one of the side gates of Daisy Fields. 
Then Marigold, who was watching for them from 
the honeysuckle end of Mrs, Kenderdine^s piazza, 
ran over, and Tanzy poured out her story. 


XIIT. 

THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER^S HEARTH. 

Every man^s experience of to-day, is that he was a fool 
yesterday, and the day before yesterday. 

The long day was ending in a radiant sunset ; its 
history from beginning to end Tanzy had related to 
their mother, with interruptions from Marigold ; 
their father was still up-stairs in grandfather^s 
study. 

Tanzy had hurried up-stairs on returning from the 
drive, and put on a favorite dress of her father^s, a 
dull white in some thin material, and standing be- 
fore the long mirror in the small dressing-room that 
opened into her chamber, had looked for some 
moments at the beautiful reflection of herself. 

I am glad I am so pretty,’^ she exclaimed, half 
aloud. I wonder if it makes any difference to 
girls whether they are pretty or not ? I want papa 
to love to look at me to-night, then he will not be 
so sharp and disagreeable.^^ 


( 181 } 


182 


FOURFOLD. 


Marigold had not cared to dress ; she threw her- 
self upon her father^s lounge in the sitting-room, and 
when Tanzy re-entered, was talking brightly about 
Mrs. Kenderdine. 

Mamma, she said queer things.^^ 

I suppose she is queer.^^ 

No, she is not/^ said Tanzy ; but she is un- 
usual. But then,’^ with a touch of sarcasm, every 
one different from ourselves is unusual. I suspect 
we are very usual. I felt so to-day beside Mar- 
garet.’^ 

She isn’t half as pretty as you are,” said Mari- 
gold, admiringly. 

^^What is pretty — after all! Once I did think 
pretty was everything ; but Margaret isn’t, and Susie 
Hartwell wasn’t, and Lucinda isn’t, and they are all 
something better ; so are you.” 

Aren’t you something better — ^too ? 

No,” said Tanzy, gravely. 

You are lovely in that dress.” 

I would rather be lovely without it. I want to 
be different from pretty and rich.” 

What is different ? ” 

Margaret is neither, and she is different, and, 
oh, how much different her mother is ! What a 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER S HEARTH 183 

full day I have had ! It was worth a golden sceptre 
being extended for/^ 

But it is only one/’ sighed Marigold. 

^4t is a beginning/^ said Tanzy^ fervently. 

That will depend upon papa ; it may be an 
ending.^^ 

And upon us! said Tanzy, emphatically. ^^It 
is not only papa^ it is us^ Gold^ and I mean that my 
part of the us shall amount to something.^^ 

Marigold pushed her father^s red silk lounge pil- 
low behind her backj and did not look encouraging 5 
papa had not been told yet. 

Mamma ! cried Tanzy, what do you think 
of our day ? 

Mrs. Henderson was still fussing over the tan- 
gled silks the girls had found her busy with ; she 
did not raise her eyes as she spoke. 

I think it was very nice, if you didn^t catch that 
old man^s disease, and if that Margaret will not al- 
ways be coming over and disturbing papa, and if 
Mrs. Kenderdine will not expect a drive every day, 
and if that Lucinda proves a good sewer.^^ 

The girls laughed in chorus, and Tanzy said that 
Margaret was a lady, and Mrs. Kenderdine would 
not think of such a thing. 


184 


FOURFOLD, 


Has papa had headache all day ? Marigold in- 
quired. 

He was worried this morning, and then he 
found something in a paper that worried him again, 
and then he said he must not put off an hour longer 
burning up grandfather^s letters. I tried to per- 
suade him to wait till to-morrow. DonH bother him 
to-night. Tan, telling him things.^^ 

He might have let Gold and me do it, if it had 
to be done. Has he lost some money, mamma ? 

Yes,^^ her mother replied, uneasily. 

Money or pebbles, it^s all the same,’^ said Tanzy, 
philosophically. 

You know it isnHj^ protested Marigold. 

don^t know anything, I am all twisted up. 
That old man would worry as much about his peb- 
bles as papa does about money ; I do not think papa^s 
money has done him much more good; it has not 
made him happy or great, or^ — she would not speak 
the word on her lips : good.^^ 

Or us either,^^ added Marigold. “ Mrs. Kender- 
dine does not know where she will be next winter,” 
she said, reverting to her pleasant home with the 
unusual stranger. 

‘‘ Neither do we,” said Tanzy. But that is a 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER' S HEARTH. 185 

queer freak of papa’s. Something must have moved 
him. When he is on the other side of the world he 
always has to come home to bum up those papers ; 
now he never can give that again as a reason for 
coming home.” 

wonder what he will have for a reason?’^ 
pondered Marigold. 

“ Perhaps he won’t come home,” said Tanzy. O 
Gold, that was a mistake about Dr. Kenderdine ; he 
is not going away to be a missionary ; he is going 
into some big city to get into the rush, and help push 
it along in the right direction ; he told me so. He 
is staying here to rusticate awhile and cheer up his 
aunt and cousin.” 

Margaret likes him,” decided Marigold. 

How can she help it ? ” 

I mean more than he likes her.” 

How do you know ? ” Tanzy asked, sharply. 

I saw it.” 

, «How?” 

“ With my eyes.” 

I did not see it with my eyes,” said Tanzy, still 
sharply, and not understanding why she should be 
sharp about it, adding : I do not think it is kind 
to say that.” 


186 


FOURFOLD. 


Do you not ? Marigold looked injured. She 
often looked injured. Saying it to you is like 
saying it to myself. I do not suppose she 
knows.” 

You might tell her/^ suggested Tanzy. 

Tan^ you are hateful to-night.” 

Girls; I do wish your father would come out of 
that hateful room.” 

Mrs. Henderson dropped her silks, and dropped 
herself into a chair. 

Her white forehead was wrinkled, and her lips 
drawn, as if tears were coming. 

Mamma, why don^t you wish he hadn^t gone 
into it % ” asked Tanzy. I used to think it was 
haunted, because papa would never have the blinds 
opened. In one of my childish rebellions I made 
Nurse let me go in. There isn’t one unpleasant thing 
in it. The inkstand is on the table just as he used 
it, with the stopper out. Nurse said he was taken 
ill writing a letter, and the last thing he asked her 
to do was to bring paper, and let him write a letter. 
There’s an old secretary full of drawers, and a 
bookcase, and a black silk cap on a chair, and a 
cane on the same chair, and over the mantel 
the loveliest lady in Quaker dress, painted in 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHERS HEARTH 187 

England, Nurse says, great-grandfather^s wife, 
who died when she was young — as young as we 
are, Gold. There are logs on the hearth, and 
ashes. I wish we might have it open, now the 
ghost is laid — if those papers are the ghost. Didn^t 
papa have any lunch ? 

No ; I did not dare disturb him. I sent Mary 
Ann to the door with coffee — he never refuses 
coffee — but he sent her away. He has not had a 
mouthful since breakfast, and he would not take 
anything but his coffee then. I wish you would go 
and get him, one of you.’^ 

Suppose I don^t dare,’^ said Tanzy, merrily. 

You dare anything to-day, replied her mother. 

I almost tremble to think what you will do next.’’ 

I am not sure that I dare that : for papa might 
be seriously displeased with me. Perhaps he’s 
looking for another will. Gold, and may come down 
with the time-yellowed document in his hand, 
and tell us that our poor little inheritance has faded 
into thin air. How would you feel ? ” she asked, 
tragically, standing before her sister, and throwing 
out her hands. What difference would it 
make ? It would make a difference ! We would 
have to go back and be as we were before we were 


188 


FOURFOLD, 


twenty-one — dependent upon papa. Would that 
make no difference to you ? 

Not one atom/^ said Marigold, decidedly. The 
thing that would make a difference to her she had 
given up hoping for ; she was spent with hoping and 
fearing ; she could not live and care ; the only thing 
to do was not to care about anything. 

It would make atoms sufficient to make a 
world to me. My money is mine. I have begun 
to learn the value of it. It shall be something 
more to me than those pebbles are to that old man. 
His pebbles represent money. Mine shall he money, 
and do money^s work.^^ 

I do not see what you want,’^ interposed her 
satisfied mother. 

Mamma dear, I want things you never dreamed 
of in your philosophy. This day has opened my 
eyes y I know something of what money could do in 
India, where Margaret’s father and sister are work- 
ing ; I know something of what it might have done 
for that old man ; I know more of what it might help 
his granddaughter to do. I feel so selfish with 
mine. I want to find out what J esus Christ thought 
about money.” 

But you may not think as he did,” said Mari- 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHERS HEARTH. 189 

gold, who kept her best thoughts to herself. 

Tanzy and Marigold often held long conversations 
in their mother^s presence, in which she took no in- 
terest ; but in the light of what their father had said 
to her this morning, she listened like one half 
awake and half dreaming j puzzled, anxious, and 
hoping something would soon come to an end. 

It would be safer for him to take Tanzy^s money 
away from her ; he had always had the care of her 
own money ; why should he not have the ^are of the 
girls^ money, too ? 

And then she v/ent back to his need of that cup 
of coffee, and tried to nerve herself into the courage 
of knocking at that bolted door. 

I shall have to,^’ Tanzy replied ; he thinks 
right, and I cannot be sure that any one else does. 
I am almost afraid of thinking ; if I think and know, 
I must dOj and you know too well what that means.^^ 
0 Tan ! ’’ pleaded Marigold, in one of her 
mother’s helpless tones, you will spoil everything. 
I believe papa is right about you ; I almost wish you 
hadn’t had your way to-day.” 

Haven’t you had a splendid time ? ” 

Yes, if you wouldn’t carry it so far. Just have 
a good time and let that be the end of it. But you 


190 


FOURFOLD. 


always get something else out of things : something 
to do next.^^ 

That is the glorious part of it. It wouldn^t be 
any fun if something didn’t come of it.” 

It isn’t always only fun when papa is angry,” 
contended Marigold, curling herself down on the 
pillow. 

^^I will take care of that,” promised Tanzy, you 
are not in this.” 

Then Marigold shut her eyes lazily, for a few 
minutes’ rest before the dinner-bell should ring ; she 
was not troubled, like her mother, about her father’s 
cup of coiiee, nor like Tanzy, about the inheritance or 
possession of money ; even if she knew what Jesus 
Christ thought about it, what difference could it 
make to her, for she had to think as papa thought^ 
or pretend to think so, to keep him happy, and to 
have peace in the house. And then what difference 
could it make when Jesus Christ had his thoughts 
so long ago ? The part that she could not imder- 
stand, was how that one man’s life and thoughts could 
change everything eighteen hundred years after he 
was dead; and here was Tanzy caring so much, 
and Margaret’s father and sister, giving up every- 
thing for him, and Margaret’s mother being willing 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHERS S HEARTH 191 

and glad about it. She had told her so to-day. 

O Tan/^ opening her sleepy eyes, thinking 
makes everybody uncomfortable. Let^s fix our dress- 
es and get some new ones, and go away with papa.^^ 

You did not want to go, last night, said her 
sister. 

didn^t know you would persist so. I don’t 
want papa to be angry about the Kenderdines.” 

Yes, Tanzy,” said her mother, you mustn’t 
say anything more about the Kenderdines ; they 
mustn’t come over ; papa would be rude to them.” 

You can’t think how I felt, not asking them to 
come,” cried poor Tanzy, I felt mean. Mrs. Ken- 
derdine said she would love to know you, and I 
couldn’t speak a word. They must think we are 
heathen. And Lucinda, too. I hate to be ashamed 
of myself. Papa is proud of his money, but it makes 
me ashamed in the presence of poor people ! ” 

0 Tan,” laughed Marigold, ‘‘ how many sensa- 

tions you can get up ! But I do enjoy you until 
you get too sensational.” ' 

1 am not willing to stagnate.” 

You never will — nor let me. But I do want to 
subside now. Can Lucinda fix dresses I I want 
one like yours.” 


192 


FOURFOLD. 


I can show her. But I don’t want to think 
about dresses.” 

Then what do you want her here for ? ” 

You will see/’ said Tanzy^ sagely. 

Tanzy/’ began her mother again, in a worried 
voice, suppose you go and listen at the door. If 
he’s moving about, you might venture to speak to 
him. I don’t like to have him shut himself up so ; 
something dreadful might happen to him, in there.” 

He might get burnt up in those ashes, or get 
choked swallowing grandfather’s cane,” laughed 
Tanzy; yes, mamma. I’ll take my life in my hand, 
in both hands, and rescue him for you.” 

Grandfather’s study was next to the girls’ room ; 
every door in both sides the broad hall was thrown 
open ; through each door were visions of lace cur- 
tains and green landscapes, a long mirror, a white- ^ 
draped bed, a picture on the wall. Through every 
room the air was stirring ; the glow of the sunset 
flooded the western windows, and if grandfather’s 
blinds were open, his room must be catching some 
of its glory. It would be something to see that 
room in the sunset. 

Tanzy ran up the stairs, and standing at the door, 
bent her head and listened ; only once she remem- 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHERS HEARTH I93 

bered her great-grandfather, and then he opened 
that door and called her to go away and not play on 
the stairs. There was not a sound within; was her 
father asleep, and was the beautiful Quaker lady 
looking down upon him ? 

^^Papa! papa!^^ she called softly, waiting with 
quickened beating of the heart for his reply. 

A sigh deepened into a groan, an unsteady step, 
and then again all was still. 

Papa ! papa ! she called, with startled en- 
treaty, let me in.’^ 

The imsteady footstep crossed the room, the bolt 
was dra^vn back, Tanzy gave the door a push. There 
stood her father, his hair disordered, his eyes strained 
and wild. 

0, papa ! frightened and yet relieved, we 
are anxious about you.’^ 

The blinds were thrown open ; the sunlight 
streamed in ; there was nothing miusual about the 
room excepting the fire-place piled with letters and 
papers. 

I was about to send for you. Come in. I want 
you.” Then, as if come to a sudden decision, get 
me something first. Take this key,” fingering in 
his vest pocket, ‘‘ unlock my cabinet and bring me a 

15? 


194 


FOURFOLD. 


bottle of the liquid ; not the pills^ I want the liquid — 
the liquid/’ 

Is your side worse^ papa ? ” 

Yes, the pain is very sharp ; be quick.” 

Tanzy flew down the stairway, quieted her mother’s 
fears by saying papa had nothing happening to him 
and had asked for his medicine, and wanted her to 
stay and help him awhile ; and then flew back 
with the bottle of dark liquid. 

I am nervous to-day, Tanzy,” he remarked re- 
assuringly, after he had drained the bottle, and 
when I am nervous, I am tempted to indulge my- 
self rather freely with the only drug that quiets me.‘ 
I have exerted my brains unusually to-day, and 
must have a long rest. My brain works in flashes. 
I must make you my business woman. This work 
has been years on my mind, and not till to-day could 
I screw myself up to do it ; I shall pay for it with a 
long exhaustion. My incapacity and feebleness 
causes me a great deal of remorse ; my life is one 
long neglect. My moral sensibilities and aspirations 
seem at times as keen as ever, and then I am op- 
pressed with the burden of what I leave undone. I 
am as weak as an infant to perform, while my mind 
and heart have the strength of manhood. And my 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHERS HEARTH 195 

nights are worse than my days, because I dream — I 
dream ! 

0, papa, don^t ! cried Tanzy, clinging to his 
arm ; ‘‘ you are dreaming now.^^ 

In this sunshine, and you in your white dress, 
and those papers to be burned. Perhaps I am ; pray 
God I may soon awake.^^ 

The black silk cap was still on the chair, as she 
had seen It years ago ; the cane had fallen or been 
pushed off to the floor ; the drawers of the secretary 
were wide open, in among the charred logs were 
thrust packages of letters, and small note books, and 
above them were piled heaps of legal looking docu- 
ments, and over the hearth pieces of closely written 
leaves were scattered. 

You have had a busy day.’^ 

It is done, and thoroughly done ; get matches 
and burn those things. IVe shivered in here all day.^^ 
She searched, but there was not a match in the 
room; then she hastened to her own room and 
brought a handful. 

Bolt the door again.^^ 

He drew the leather-cushioned arm-chair to the 
fire-place, and dropped down into it, leaning for- 
ward, resting his elbow on the arm, and his head 


196 


FOURFOLD. 


upon his hand ; she knelt before the logs and lighted 
a twisted bit of paper ; there were pieces of red 
tape, and envelopes with great red seals 5 tiny note 
books and large ones ; scraps of newspaper, all 
musty and yellowed ; it was years since the light 
of day had been let in through the windows ; more 
than twice or thrice at night he had come to the 
door, and with his lamp held high, peered into the 
room, but his resolution vanished ; the keeping of 
his promise to his grandfather must be put off until 
to-morrow night. 

I was in the mood to-day ; I had to be in the 
mood.^^ 

What put you in the mood ? inquired Tanzy, 
gathering her dress back from the flame. 

You, you witch ! he half laughed. 

Then I wish I had done it before, and had it 
off your mind ; it hasn’t been much to do,” she said, 
with her fresh, young energy. 

Not collecting them, but IVe read everything 
worth reading ; that was the dreaded part of my 
promise ; he died too soon, he had planned to do it 
himself when he was old.” 

Old ! ” repeated Tanzy, not recognizing the 


sarcasm. 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER'S HEARTH. 197 


“ As I have planned every year of the last six- 
teen.” 

“ I am glad you did not die too soon,” said Tan- 
zy, in her practical fashion, ‘‘ sixteen years is a 
long time to be breaking one’s promise.” 

“ It was not broken — only I did not keep it,” he 
said, uneasily, not relishing being brought to the 
bar of her outspoken judgment. 

“ Please don’t keep any with me that way,” she 
returned, decidedly; you kept your promise of let- 
ting me do as I pleased to-day, and I thank you.” 

Having made this opening for a question, she 
waited, and, meanwhile, played with the fire. 
After a moment of silence, she said playfully, I 
like to rake over the dust of ages, don’t you? Did 
you find any mysteries, or secrets, papa, any reason 
why he should ask you to promise to look through 
his papers and bum them ? ” 

With her clear eyes on his, he hesitated ; but it 
was only for a second, he seemed to have hesitated, 
that he might speak after deliberation. “ No, Tan, 
I did not ; I thought I had got into one of his jour- 
nals about a trip to Missouri, but it proved to be 
nothing but a scare ; I would have enjoyed a little 
excitement, but I could not get it or make it. I may 


198 


FOURFOLD. 


as well tell you/’ he went on easily and rapidly, 
that I did have a premonition of finding something 
not altogether on the square ; Nurse may have told 
you, although I forbade her, that he wrote a letter to 
me the week he died, evidently the one he was trying 
to write when he had his first attack ; he succeeded 
in finishing it and gave it to her to be handed to me ; 
in it he asked me to settle a matter that troubled his 
conscience in his last days. I may as well be frank 
with you, for you might in some other way have 
learned of it, and been needlessly worried. It was 
nothing but the bewilderment attendant upon his 
confusion of mind — he had forgotten something — a 
payment to be made, that he had overlooked in his 
will, and he requested me to make the payment. 
Of course I did it immediately— it was not a large 
sum — ^but I should have done it had it involved half 
my fortune. That letter I destroyed to-day, I kept 
as a curiosity, intending to show it to his great- 
grandchildren as a proof of their great-grandfather’s 
conscientiousness and integrity ; but in a fit of ab- 
sent-mindedness to-day I tore it up with something 
else I held in my hand. I ran over his papers, 
thinking to find proof of the correctness of his state- 
ment, but it was so slight a matter that he had made 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER'S HEARTH. 199 

no note of it. He was as methodical as the clock. 
What would the old man think of my affairs % If 
your clear head did not keep my accounts, Tanzy, 

I should never know about the year’s expenses.” 

“I am glad to know that about my great-grand- 
father” said Tanzy’s honest voice. ‘‘May I tell 
Gold ? ” 

“ Yes, it is as well for you both to know that your 
great-grandfather and your father would not wrong 
a poor man out of his rightful dollar.” 

“ Then there is one poor man a rich man has not 
wronged,” cried Tanzy. “ I should hate my money 
if fraud had been at the bottom of the making of 
it.” 

“ There are thousands of poor men that rich men 
have not wronged, child ; don’t get such ideas into 
your head. The rich man is the benefactor of the 
poor man.” 

“ So he ought to be. That is what I will be with 
my money. I begin to be glad I have money, 
papa, I am learning the good of it. Here’s a news- 
paper here — wonder how old it is ? May I pull it 
out?” 

“ You cannot without dropping a spark on that 
light dress. It is a banner I had in my hand when 


200 


FOURFOLD. 


I came up-stairs. These gossipy county papers 
ought to be put down.^^ 

Tanzy poked at the Banner so that it caught the 
flame ; she remembered what Lucinda said about 
the Mansfield letter, and wisely kept silent. When 
he was not worried, and had not that pain in his 
side, she would tell him the story of the hermit and 
her box of pebbles. 

Papa, this fire is an allegory — a picture of the 
time when everything in the world will be burned 
up. — I’m sorry everything has got to be burned up, 
but I suppose nobody will care any more than grand- 
father will care — or does care now about these pa- 
pers. But he will have to give an account of what 
is written on them — I learned that to-day. We had 
such a long talk.” 

Her father was absorbed in his own musings, and 
again did not question her, as she hoped. 

Would those books be opened in the Judgment 
Day ? Would his grandfather be judged out 
of them ? Would he be judged out of them ? 
Would that journal of his trip to Missouri 
be brought to light ? Would the record stand 
against his name that he had bought a poor man’s 
land and given him not half its worth ? If that let- 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER S HEARTH 20l 

ter cancelled his grandfather^s guilt, what about his 
own ? But what a daring request ! Interest for 
forty years beside four times the sum he paid for 
the land ! Fourfold ! That was fourfold with a 
vengeance ! He had never dared to look into the 
New Testament at the chapter and verse that letter 
indicated; he had not opened the book since he 
had read his grandfather’s letter ; if the book had 
made his grandfather such a fool, was he not wise 
in forbidding it to his children ? 

Papa ! ” Tanzy forgot to poke her fire and lifted 
her head to look straight at him. Do you know 
what Jesus Christ thinks about money and rich 
men ? ” 

He sprang to his feet with an angry gesture, 
suppressing the word upon his lips. She acknow- 
ledged to Marigold that night that she was fright- 
ened. She could not understand what should touch 
papa so. 

He went to the secretary and pushed in the 
drawers with noisy strength. 

Tanzy had lost her interest in the fire ; she 
arose, and stood looking up into the face of her 
great-grandfather’s wife. 

think I must be painted in Quaker dress, 


202 


FOURFOLD. 


papa/’ she said, as lightly as she could speak. 

We have no money to waste in nonsense/’ he said, 
harshly. ‘^Ihad another disclosure to make to you. 
Your great-grandfather was not made of money, and 
we have spent a great deal. Lately I have met with 
heavy losses. I wish to ask you not to demand. — 
You are of age. Your money is your own. If you 
are willing to put your money into my hands — both 
you and Marigold — if I may still have the expendi- 
ture of it, and the investment of it, we can go on 
in the same luxurious way — travelling where we 
will, and spending as freely as ever. The only 
difference will be that you and your sister will 
come to me as ever for the money. Your mother and 
I are in a measure — and not a small one — depen- 
dent upon our children.” 

O papa ! ” Tanzy sprang forward and threw 
her arms about him. am almost glad. I 

wanted my money to be of use, and now I can give 
it to you and mamma. I was thinking of doing 
something grand with it, but this is better than 
grand. Shall the lawyer come, and have it done 
legally I You shall not feel dependent. It is all yours, 
every dollar, and Gold and I will be very careful 
and not ask for much, and do without new dresses.” 


THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER:^ S HEARTH 203 


His plan was a perfect success. He actually 
trembled with the excitement and delight of it. 
He had deceived her, but was it not for her own 
good ? With that New Testament in her hands, 
what might she not do with her money % 

^^You are a generous daughter,^’ he said, his 
eyes growing large through tears. Explain it all 
to your sister, and telegraph to-morrow to Mr. 
Fiske, and it shall be settled speedily. As you 
keep the family account-book, you will know how 
the money is spent.’^ 

But I shaVt know how much we can spend, 
papa,’^ she returned, anxiouly. 

^^Don^t be afraid. We can spend just as 
much as we did last year. We had not your inte- 
rest then.^^ 

Is mamma troubled ? Shall I tell her I love to 
give her my money f 

No, dear ; do not speak of it. I will tell her. 
She knew I intended to ask you. There^s the 
dinner-bell ! Send Nurse to watch this fire. You 
have relieved my mind, and made me as happy as 
a king ! But he avoided the truth-telling eyes 
looking straight into his. 

Is the pain in your side better ? 


204 


FOURFOLD. 


I had forgotten it. I say, Tan, I wish I 
could give you the key of my cabinet, and 
take my medicine only when I must ask you 
for it.^’ 

Why, isn^t it good for you ? 

Not too much of it. When I am worried 
I take it too often,^^ he said, with easy frank- 
ness. 

But you are not worried now — about any- 
thing ? Are you % she asked, affectionately. 

No. I am royally happy. You shall take 
our neighbors driving again to-morrow, for be- 
ing such a dutiful and generous daughter.’^ 

And may I have that key ? she asked, more 
bravely than she felt. 

Not to-night. I feel strong enough to take 
myself in hand.^^ 

I feel so young and so old both to-night,^’ she 
half sighed. 

You look both,’^ said her father, smiling and 
pinching her cheek. 


XIV. 

makgaeet’s note. 


I am afraid to think what I have done ; look on it again 
I dare not.” 

Gold, come ! whispered Tanzy, to her sister 
after dinner. 

Her father had thrown himself in an attitude of 
exhaustion, upon his lounge, and her mother had 
pushed her chair close beside it, hand in hand they 
would converse, or lapse into silence, for the next 
hour or two ; the after dinner confidence as 
Marigold called it, was a thing to be respected, and 
the girls usually had this hour to themselves. 

With Nurse’s New Testament in her hand, and 
her sister’s arm linked within hers, Tanzy led the 
way to a rustic seat on the lawn. 

Gold, I’m full of things to tell you,” she began. 

I had such a talk with papa. Something has hap- 
pened.” 

I am glad,” replied Marigold. It’s almost 
time.” 

( 205 ) 


206 


FOURFOLD. 


Papa has laid the ghost in grandfather^s study, 
and I shall beg him to let us have the room to our- 
selves ; he will not want it for anything now, and it 
is a charming old place. Gold, we must stay here 
this summer ; it will save money, besides. Do you 
know, we must begin to be economical, and staying 
home is the easiest and pleasantest way. 

‘East, West, 

Home’s best.’ ” 

Why must we be economical % 

When Marigold was in earnest, she was thor- 
oughly in earnest. 

Because papa has lost money. 

Did he never lose any before ? 

I suppose not, and this makes him nervous. 
Any way he was more excited than I ever saw him, 
and you know, that is saying a great deal. He 
asked me, he demanded, I think, that you and I 
should give all our money up to him ; he said he and 
mamma were dependent upon us ! Think of that, 
and he is so proud, and mamma so timid. I am 
glad to do it, arenH you ? 

Marigold pondered; she was proud of having 
money in her own right ; she had been rich longer 
than Tanzy, she knew something of the influence of . 
her possession. 


MARGARET^S NOTE. 


207 


I am glad to help papa ; I am not glad to give 
him the right to my money/’ she replied^ after a 
meditative moment. 

Why not ? ” asked Tanzy^ impatiently, what 
difference will it make ? ” 

What difference will it make to him ? ” inquired 
Marigold, with the utmost coolness. 

Why, don’t you see — ” her surprised eyes fixed 
on her sister, “ it will be so hard for him to be de- 
pendent — ^he is so proud.” 

We have been dependent on him.” 

That is our natural condition ; children are born 
dependent upon their fathers.” 

And fathers often become dependent upon their 
children.” 

‘‘ Yes,” conceded Tanzy, but they don’t like 
it.” 

Papa would not feel it — ^we can keep him from 
feeling it, and mamma would enjoy it ; she likes 
being taken care of. You keep the accounts now 
and pay the bills ; I do not see how anything will 
be changed.” 

You do not understand ; it is how papa feels ; 
haven’t you delicacy and refinement enough to un- 
derstand how he shrinks from a change of position?” 


208 


FOURFOLD, 


No/^ acknowledged Marigold^ I confess I have 
not ; that is taking papa as papa. I think it is more 
because he loves the money than anything else.’^ 

That^s a shameful thing to say/’ Tanzy burst 
out angrily. 

Some true things are shameful/’ said Marigold, 
quietly, who had slipped into her position as elder 
sister. I’ve always known that he loved money, 
and that he loved and coveted our money. I am 
not willing to give him any right to mine beside the 
interest ; I will spend every cent of that for his com- 
fort ; he is very luxurious.” 

Yes, and so are we. He said things could go 
on as usual ; my interest is new money to come 
in this year. But he will be angry with you. Mari- 
gold.” 

Yes,” answered Marigold, and I shall want to 
run away from that, or put you, poor dear, between 
him and me.” 

I have promised him.” 

Can you not teU him that you have reconsid- 
ered ? ” 

I have not reconsidered,” declared Tanzy, still 
indignant. ‘‘ I would not break my word for 
twice the money.’^ 


MARGARET^ S NOTE. 


209 


He took advantage of your generosity/^ 

It is not generosity, it is simple justice/^ 

^Ht is simple justice to take care of him if he is 
poor, but why we cannot do it with the money in 
our own hands, 1 do not understand, do you ? 

No, as far as that goes. It is only his feeling 
of dependence that prevents.’^ 

Has he lost all his money ? asked Marigold, in- 
credulously. 

‘‘ He did not say, he spoke as though it were a 
great deal.^’ 

I would like to know how much,’^ said Marigold, 
in a business-like tone very new to her, I would 
like to see the losses put down in dollars.^^ 

Do you not trust papa ? Tanzy asked, in 
slow wonderment. 

Unexpectedly Marigold confronted her with the 
same question : 

Do you f 

“ Yes,’^ she said, impatiently ; and then she 
stopped and wondered if she did trust him. 

Does he wish Mr. Fiske to be sent for, as he 
always does when a money question comes up ? 

‘‘ He told me to telegraph to him to-morrow.^^ 

Is the money to be his — in that way, that we 
14 


210 


FOURFOLD, 


cannot have it again until and unless he pleases to 
give it to us ? In his will, perhaps ? 

Yes, I think so. I really did not think. I 
was so glad to make him happy, he looked so very 
ill, and talked so wildly about himself, I was 
frightened.’^ 

Perhaps Mr. Fiske will not do it; he will not al- 
low us to be wronged.” 

Papa would not wrong us,” contended Tanzy, 
proudly. He does not mean to wrong us, all he 
means is not to let us use our money as we please. 
That is, the way I please to use mine.” 

I do not know how I may please to use mine. 
Tell him I am not willing to give him anything be- 
side the interest.” 

I am afraid to tell him.” 

To tell the truth, so am I,” said Mari- 
gold. 

What shall we do, then ? ” asked Tanzy. 

I don’t know,” said Marigold. 

Give it to him. Gold, dear ; don’t make him 
angry, don’t make trouble,” Tanzy pleaded. 

You make trouble about some things.” 

About things I can’t give up.” 

Well, then, I can’t give up my money. I care 


MARGARET^ S NOTE. 


211 


as much for my money as you care about those other 
things.’^ 

“ I do care about those other things ; I am brave 
enough to fight for them/^ said Tanzy, not feeling 
at all brave. “ I wish we had a brother to fight for 
us.’^ 

You will see that I am brave enough to fight 
for my money 

I do not care about the money, if I may stay 
here at Daisy Fields, and know the Kender- 
dines, and go to church every Sunday ; that is all I 
want, to make me happy.’^ 

‘‘ Make that arrangement with papa, then,^^ pro- 
posed Marigold; buy your liberty.’^ 

‘‘1 will not,’^ said Tanzy. I wouldn^t be so 
mean ; he has my word ; the money is his as much 
as it will be after Mr. Fiske comes.’^ 

Shall you not do those things then ? 

He has given me permission to take them driv- 
ing again to-morrow — ^unless he changes his mind. 
I never feel sure of his mind, and I must coax for 
the other things.’^ 

If you are generous to him, he ought to be gen- 
erous to you.’^ 

Don’t you want the things I want ? 


212 


FOURFOLD. 


I do not care about going to church ; that music 
was horrid — it grated upon me^ and I know there are 
no pictures.^^ 

It is not a Roman Catholic church ; aren^t you 
a Protestant ? 

don^tknow/’ said Marigold, with a laugh. 
like the cathedrals ; what is a little country 
church % 

Jesus Christ taught in a little country church. 

Oh, if you are always going back to that ! 
cried Marigold, discontentedly. 

And he had the splendid Temple to go to. I 
remember reading about the Temple. He taught 
by the seaside, and in a desert place, and by the 
roadside. I think if the father of those brothers 
had demanded their money, he would have wanted 
them to give it up.^^ 

You are not sure of that.^^ 

I can be sure by looking 5 he told them what to 
do about everything.^^ 

But that doesn^t prove that I must do as they 
did.^' 

I want to do as they did.^^ 

Not such hard things as this.’^ 

Anybody can do easy things.’^ 


MARGARET'S NOTE. 


213 


ii J]y0x*y docs not liO/YC money to give up. 

“ Every girl has something to give up ; Margaret 
has ; she has given up her father and sister.” 

“ For her mother’s sake.” 

And you are not willing to give up your money 
for your father’s sake,” reproached Tanzy. 

“ Because, in my judgment, it is not for his hap- 
piness.” Marigold’s judgment was a great deal to her. 

“ He says it is, and who knows as well as he 
does, about how he feels himself? ” 

“I know how I feel,” said Marigold, crossly. 

It is not as if some one else asked you for it ; I 
would not give it up to any one else.” 

“ What do you suppose made him think of it?” 

Losing his money.” 

When did he lose it ? ” asked Marigold, with 
unusual suspicion, 
don’t know.” 

Not to-day.” 

“ He may have felt too proud to speak of it be- 
fore; he may have been working himself up to do 
it.” 

“ It seems to me. Tan, that you give him credit 
for a great deal of fine feeling.” 

<< I should feel so,” said Tanzy. “I do not know 


214 


FOURFOLD. 


which would be the more galling to my pride, de- 
pendence, or asking for the money 

I wouldn’t worry about his pride,” said Mari- 
gold, lightly. 

Tanzy opened the book she had been keeping in 
her hand j she did not know where to search for the 
answer to her question as to what Jesus Christ would 
say about her giving up her inheritance ; there was 
nothing to do but to read until she came to it. 

If you find in that book that you must give up 
to him, he will be glad enough for you to read it,” 
said Marigold ; it seems queer to me how ready you 
are to obey it.” 

There’s nothing else to do,” urged Tanzy. 

Why, yes, there is ! ” objected Marigold, ^^you 
do not have to obey.” 

‘‘ But I want to.” 

If you want to, that’s different ; why don’t I 
want to ? ” 

“ Because you care more for the money than for 
what he says.” 

I suppose I do,” Marigold admitted, frankly ; 

if you are determined to read. I’ll find something 
else to do.” 

Tanzy was determined to read; Marigold went 


MARGARET^S NOTE, 


215 


into the house and sat down at the piano. 

Opening in Luke, Tanzy^s eyes fell upon a phrase 
that interested her; she read on and finished the 
chapter ; then instead of turning back to Mark, she 
kept on, hoping to learn more of Martha and her 
sister Mary, who sat at Jesus’ feet and heard his 
word. 

As the dusk came on and darkened her page, 
she came suddenly upon words that she read again 
and yet again ; was this what the Master would say 
to her ? 

‘‘ And one of the company said unto him. Master, 
speak to my brother, that he divide the inheritance 
with me. And he said unto him, Man, who made 
me a judge or a divider over you I And he said 
unto them. Take heed, and beware of covetousness : 
for a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of 
the things which he possesseth, 

‘‘ And he spake a parable unto them, saying. The 
ground of a certain rich man brought forth plenti- 
fully ; and he thought within himself, saying, What 
shall I do because I have no room where to bestow 
my fruits ? And he said. This will I do : I v/ill pull 
down my barns and build greater ; and there will I 
bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say 


FOURFOLD. 


21G 

to my soulj Soul^ thou hast much goods laid up for 
many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and he 
merry. 

But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night 
thy soul shall be required of thee : then whose shall 
those things be which thou hast provided ? So is he 
that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich 
toward God.^^ 

With the book open in her hand, Tanzy arose and 
went towards the house. 

Marigold was playing in the dark as she loved to do; 
the maid was lighting the lamps in the sitting-room. 

Papa,^^ said Tanzy, stepping in the low window, 

I have found something.’^ 

The thrilling earnestness of her voice brought him 
startled to his feet ; what had she found ? That 
letter ! But had he not seen it burned to ashes ? 
Throwing himself back he covered his nervousness 
with a laugh. 

Come in, and don^t steal in like a ghost and 
frighten me out of my wits ; what is it ? 

Something in this book — for me to do.’^ 

I told you to let that book alone,^^ he said, an- 
grily, as she dropped down beside the lounge with 
the book in her hand. 


MARGARET^S NOTE. 


217 


The book will not let me alone/^ 

I told you so ; I warned you.^^ 

But you will approve of this ; listen. No, I 
will tell you first what Gold says. I told her what 
you wanted, about the money, you know, and she is 
not willing.^^ 

^^Not willing he repeated, how is she not will- 
ing ? 

Mrs. Henderson looked flushed and disturbed ; 
she pushed herself back, that Tanzy might come 
nearer her father. 

‘‘ She is willing to give you all the interest, every 
year, but that is all. She will not let Mr. Fiske 
make her sign anything. She intends to keep her 
money in her own hands.’^ 

She does he muttered, between his set teeth, 

we will see about that. Perhaps I have some- 
thing to say about that.^^ 

I am willing and glad to give you mine, inter- 
est and principal, dear papa ; Mr. Fiske may draw 
up the papers, and I will sign them ; and this makes 
me more willing.’^ 

‘‘ Eead it then : no, tell me ; I wish to see how 
you understand it. What chapter and verse is it?^^ 
It is in Luke,’^ she said, turning the page to 


218 


FOURFOLD. 


find the number of the chapter^ ^^the twelfth chapter, 
and it begins at the thirteenth verse/^ 

That isn’t it ; go on/’ he answered, relieved, 
that is it, I mean ; read on.” 

Do you know what it is ? ” she questioned, much 
surprised. 

No; how can I until you tell me ? ” 

Letting the book slip out of her hand, Tanzy, still 
kneeling on the carpet, leaned against her mother’s 
chair, resting both hands upon its padded arm. 

Jesus was teaching the people, and a man in 
the company interrupted him and asked him a ques- 
tion, just as I should want to do if I were there, al- 
most the same question, only I should have said : 
^Master, would you like to have me give all my in- 
heritance to my father % ’ He said : ‘ Speak to my 
brother and bid him divide the inheritance with me.’ 
You see it isn’t quite the same, but the answer fits 
us both. He told the man to beware of covetous- 
ness. I suppose that means not to covet what his 
brother thought he had a right to, don’t you ? ” 

Probably. But his brother may have had the 
right to it.” 

^^It doesn’t say. But he tells the man not to 
covet it. So I will not covet my inheritance ; I will 


MARGARET^3 NOTE. 


219 


give it to you. And the story Jesus tells makes me 
afraid to have money.^^ 

What is the story ? her father felt impelled to 

ask. 

It could not be the story his grandfather referred 
to, for this was not the chapter nor verse. 

If she stumbled upon that, he would bid her shut 
the book. 

The story is about a rich man, I suppose Jesus 
meant to warn this man lest he should become like 
him. His ground brought forth plentifully so that he 
had enough for years, and he built larger barns and 
stored it, and said to himself that he had plenty of 
goods and he could take his ease and be merry.^^ 

Sure enough, why not ? interrupted her 
father. 

‘‘ But God spoke to him and said : ^This night thy 
soul shall be required of thee ! ^ And so I suppose 
he died that night. He couldn’t live a great many 
years and be merry if God wouldn’t let him ; so 
what difference did it make about his money ? I 
should not think that the man would have cared for 
it after that, would you ? ” 

‘‘ So you think if you don’t give up your 
inheritance, you may die ^ to-night ? ” her father 


220 


FOURFOLD. 


asked sneeringly, Are you as easily frightened 
as that by those old parables ? 

I am not frightened/^ she answered^^seriouly. 

I never do say to myself, ^ be merry/ That is 

not all I want. And then But I’ll read 

it.” 

She read aloud the lesson of the story : So is 

he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not 
rich toward God.’ So is he — so is any one, I 
suppose — that lays up treasure just for himself ; 
but I do not understand about the other : ‘ rich 
toward GodJ^^ 

That book is full of mysterious things. I warn- 
ed you not to take it literally.” 

shall take this literally, and not covet my 
inheritance. I would rather be rich this other way 
if I knew how.” 

‘‘ My way is good enough for me. FU take your 
money and take the risk. My grandfather was 
rich and merry.” 

But he had to die and leave it.” 

That’s the misery of it ! ” cried her father, Oh, 
that’s the misery of it.” 

And you will not be angry with Gold, 
papa ? ” said Tanzy, in hurried pleading. 


MARGARET'S NOTE. 


221 


No ; I will not be angry with Gold. She shall 
have the misery and the worriment of her riches. 
I’ve got yours, and that’s all I want. Don’t you 
see that if you did not give your money to me, you 
would take that story literally, and throw your 
money away to be rid of it.” 

Tanzy replied in her strong, convincing voice ; 
“I do not believe throwing money away to be 
rid of it is what he means by ^ Ticln towwfd God^ ” 

“ Then you think you do know what it means,” 
her father said, tantalizingly. 

“ It means you must still be rich — some- 
how.” 

“ Find out how, then.” 

“I think I do know some of it, but I can- 
not explain. Susie Hartwell kept her money, and 
did good with it.” 

“ I’ll do good with it, trust me, Tanzy. You are 
a good daughter, and I’ll give you three wishes,” 
he answered, much moved. I wish your sister 
would trust me as you do.” With all her gentleness 
he was afraid of Marigold. 

“ Will you really give me three wishes ! ” 
Tanzy sprang delightedly to her feet. “ I know 
what they will be, but I will not ask you all at one 


222 


FOURFOLD, 


time, and Til try not to be selfish about asking only 
for myself.^^ 

^ I promise you. Mamma is my witness.^^ 

At that moment the maid entered with a note for 
Miss Tanzy. As soon as she gathered its meaning, 
she read it aloud. 

Dear Miss Tanzy: — Mark asks me to tell you 
about our poor old man. He died two hours ago 
with one of your pebbles in his hand. It was very 
quick at the last ; Lucinda and Mark were alone 
with him. Mark says she is a brave girl. She told 
Mark, she would ask the minister to read the psalm 
he liked so well, beginning, ^Lord, thou hast been 
our dwelling-place in all generations.^ Lucinda 
would be touched and helped if you would go to the 
funeral ; she thinks no one was ever so kind to him 
as you were. Your friend, 

Margaret Kenderdine.^’ 

Monday, 8 : 10. p. m. 

That old man in the woods,’^ cried her father, 
excitedly, ^^is he deadf Is Theophilus Dennis 
dead ? 

Yes, papa,^^ said Tanzy, wondering at his ex- 
citement, did mamma tell you ? 

Shivering so that his teeth chattered, he lifted 


MARGARET^ S NOTE. 


223 


himself, then fell back against his pillow ; was there 
no claim now I Were they both dead at last, his 
grandfather and this man he fancied he had wronged? 
The Judge of all the earth had taken the fourfold 
out of his hand ! It was too late ! This night would 
his soul be required of him ? 

‘‘ IVe got a chill ! he muttered, between his 
chattering teeth, It’s that room and those mil- 
dewed things ! Make a fire ; get blankets — send for 
somebody ! Where’s Marigold ? Tanzy, don’t stand 
there and look frightened ; do something ! ” he ended, 
his voice rising to a shrill scream. 

Darting through the window, Tanzy sped across 
the lawn and over the way. Dr. Kenderdine stood 
with Margaret on the piazza. 

Come quick,” she cried, ‘‘ father has a chill ! 
He’s frightened ! ” 


XV. 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 

“Much dearer be the things which come through hard dis- 
tress.” 

Three hours later, when the house was still, and 
the only lamps burning were in their mother^s cham- 
ber, Nurse lighted the lamps in the girls^ dressing 
room, and they went softly up-stairs ; their father 
was asleep ; the doctor had said he must have rest. 

He rests all the time at Daisy Fields,^^ Tanzy 
had told him. 

Then stay at Daisy Fields.’’ 

^^We can’t!” said Tanzy. 

Tanzy stood before the long mirror, imbinding her 
hair and twisting it into a loose knot for the night ; 
Marigold threw herself lazily into a chair, and 
watched her sister’s energetic movements, with half 
open, sleepy eyes. 

Tan, how can you be so wide awake at this time 
of night 1 ” she expostulated. 

( 224 ) 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


225 


“ How can you be so sleepy — I feel awake all 
over ! 

You look so now, with electric sparks in your 
eyes. What are you sparkling about ? 

I^m in a quandary.’^ 

When are you in anything else 

I am so glad that Dr. Kenderdine doesn’t advise 
a change for papa ; I’m sick and tired of the very 
word ; ^ change, change,’ has been rung in our ears 
all the world over — and now it is a change for him 
to stay at home. I wish some doctor would tell him 
to make a change inside of himself.” 

Who is disrespectful now ? ” 

Oh, dear ! But that is the electricity in me.” 

I should think it was, by the energy with which 
you are brushing your hair.” 

Tanzy laughed and dropped the brush. 

^^What are you putting on that wrapper for?” 
asked Marigold, in surprise, as Tanzy slipped into a 
white cashmere wrapper. 

I cannot sleep yet ; I shall keep you awake if I 
lie down ; I want to read and think and decide. 
Papa never keeps in the same mood twenty-four 
hours, and he has given me three wishes.” 

^^He has!’^^ exclaimed Marigold, her sleepy eyes 
15 


226 


FOURFOLD. 


widening and brightening; ^^now we shall have what 
we want. Was he in earnest ? she asked, anxiously. 

Very real, more than usual. But now he is so 
nervous, all unstrung. Dr. Kenderdine says, I must 
be careful not to excite him. He says he can do 
nothing for him, he must do it all himself. Three 
wishes are so few, when I feel that I must have 
twenty.^^ 

Only twenty ! repeated Marigold, mockingly. 

One will be to stay at Daisy Fields, one to go to 
church every Sunday, and another to know the 
Kenderdine’s.^^ Marigold ended with a laugh. 

Do you care for those things most of all ? I 
want one for you, one for papa, and the other for 
Lucinda,’^ said Tanzy, seriously. 

Lucinda ! you crazy thing ! 

That is the wildest of aiy^ admitted Tanzy. 

I should think so. Do you want to give her 
five dollars a day ? 

want to give her something better than money 

Better than money^s worth still in her mock- 
ing tone. 

I do not know what money ^s worth is yet. I 
want to ask Mrs. Kenderdine.^’ 

That will be your wish for yourself.” 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


227 


There are not enough for mine to come in/’ 
said Tanzj, settling herself in a lounging chair. 
shall have to get mine some other way : mine are 
the hardest to get.” 

I want to stay here all summer, and I want to 
know Margaret and Mark. Mrs. Kenderdine is the 
essence of loveliness ; but she doesn’t touch me as 
she touches you; and I do not care as you do 
about going to church, not but that it will be a new 
place to go to. The music is nothing, and, of course, 
there are no paintings, and the architecture is in 
the style of a barn, probably: white walls, low 

roof, and a pulpit like a hencoop ” 

Is that the style of a barn ? ” 

Don’t be critical.” 

Marigold was thoroughly wide awake. She had 
decided what the wish for herself would be. It was 
that papa should not speak to her about her great- 
grandfather’s money. How could she. rebel ” 
while he was excited and weak, and still more, how 
could she give up her right to the inheritance that 
was with every experience acquiring new signifi- 
cance ? For might it not some day decide the 
question of her marrying or not marrying ? It 
might free her from her father’s will. 


228 


FOURFOLD. 


Her father was learning that Marigold, gentle 
and yielding, always playful in her persistency, had 
the stronger will of his two girls. 

Tanzy, in her outbursts, was something of a 
tempest, but Marigold had no outbursts. She 
simply persisted. This was not often, she 
seldom cared sufficiently to persist. Now she 
cared. 

Tan, dear, may I choose my wish ? 

I wanted to choose it for you,^^ said disappoint- 
ed Tan. 

But you would rather I should choose it for my- 
self, I know.^^ 

If you care for something more than that papa 
should not take your money. 

I do not. That is my wish. Will you make 
him promise to let me alone ? 

If I can.'' 

Of course you can. He has promised. He 
prides himself upon keeping his word. He says 
his laws change not, like the Medes and Per- 
sians," sighed Marigold. She had heard him say 
that so often. But what had he not said — so often ? 

His laws change when he changes, and he 
changes sometimes in ten minutes. But I am hop- 


A MIDNIGHT TALK, 


229 


ing a great deal for to-morrow. He thinks he is 
very ilL’^ 

Is he ? asked Marigold. 

No.” 

When you slipped out I knew you wanted 
to ask the doctor. Do you think he told the 
truth ? ” 

He doesn^t know how to tell a lie.” 

By what intuition did you discover that ? ” 
asked Marigold^ in her light, mocking tone. 

Marigold did not believe in people as Tanzy 
did. Marigold waited. Tanzy knew. 

Will he come again ? ” Marigold asked, as 
Tanzy opened Nurse^s New Testament. 

No. He told papa He said : You do 

not need anything I can do, Mr. Henderson,” 
and papa looked provoked and relieved. I 
think in the morning he will send for some one 
else.” 

He likes Dr. Kenderdine.” 

In spite of himself,” laughed Tanzy. It was 
fun to see his manner change. He trusts him, 
and he doesn^t trust anybody else besides Mr. 
Fiske.” 

Oh ! Will Mr. Fiske have to be sent for ? 


230 


FOURFOLD. 


I hate to see him enter the house. Papa is always 
getting frights about money and sending for him. 
But have it thoroughly understood that he has 
nothing to say to me. I will not open my lips to 
him.’^ And Marigold closed her lips as if she 
would never open them to anybody. 

I will do my best/^ promised Tanzy, rather 
wearily ; but one musn^t be covetous, Gold.^^ 

How can one covet one^s own ? 

I suppose we can, if it is withheld, or about to 
be taken. Jesus Christ didn^t speak to the man^s 
brother. Perhaps he does not want me to speak to 
father.’^ 

What do you mean ? Have you been finding 
some new story about some unheard of thing % 
asked Marigold, impatiently. 

This seems very heard of and natural to 
me. How often people quarrel about an inherit- 
ance ! 

One has a right to one^s rights.^^ 

I do not believe one has — always. If the in- 
heritance had been the best for the brother — the 
younger brother, I suppose — I think Jesus Christ 
would have answered him differently. He was so 
compassionate to people in trouble ; but he seems to 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


231 


forget this request, and turns to the people and 
tells them not to be covetous : as though this man 
were covetous in seeking to have his rights.’^ 

That is a queer doctrine ; papa said you would 
be carried away with queer things. What has one 
a better right to than one^s rights ? demanded 
Marigold, with an air at once convincing and con- 
clusive. 

Jesus goes on to tell them: may I read it to 
youT' 

^^Fm too tired, and so are you. What would 
papa say to our sitting up so late ? It^s past mid- 
night. But if you will make papa promise, you may 
read the whole book through to me to-morrow, she 
said, indulgently. 

‘‘ I cannot read long at a time ; I have to think 
it out ; I want to know all about how far one may 
push one^s rights.^^ 

Till you get them,^^ said Marigold, in her con- 
vinced tone. 

You do not.^^ 

Because I do not care enough ; when I care, 
you will see.^^ 

Then I will ask papa about this right of yours y 
that is for you; for him, I want him to promise not 


232 


FOURFOLD. 


to take any more, not any at all, of that medicine 
he takes so often 

How do you know it isn^t good for him ? asked 
Marigold, watching the effect of her question. 

He told me so to-night. I wonder what it is?’^ 

I know,’^ said Marigold, with whitening lips. 

What is it % '' 

Something — ^not good for him.^^ 

What is it? Tell me ! Of course it isnH good 
for him — ^he knows that.” 

It is killing him, it is destroying his mind, and 
his moral nature; it is at the bottom of everything 
that goes wrong. 0, Tan,” with a shivering cry, 
hiding her face in her hands, don^t you Tcnow f ” 

No,” uttered the lips as white as Marigold^s. 

I did not want to tell you ; I vowed to myself I 
would never tell you ; I have known it so long — it 
has taken the life out of me, and made me not care. 
O, Tan, it is opiumP 

Opium?” repeated Tanzy, but half comprehend- 
ing. 

Don’t you know about opium ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” — the word was breathed, not spoken. 

He is a slave, he cannot help himself. He is 
bound body and soul, and nobody can help him.” 


A MIDNIGHT TALK, 


233 


Tanzy dropped her head and burst into tears. 
Marigold sprang to her side, and put both arms about 
her. 

I oughtn^t to have told you, I don^t know why I 
did ; but I didn’t want you to speak of it and work 
and worry to no purpose. I hope mamma doesn’t 
understand ; perhaps she knows and doesn’t under- 
stand. I made a doctor in New York tell me all 
about it; five years ago. I overheard nurse telling 
somebody, and saying she was sorry for poor mam- 
ma and for us, and so I asked the doctor ; I wanted 
to do something — and I have coaxed papa on my 
knees.” 

^^0, Gold, dear Gold ! And you had to bear it 
all alone, and didn’t tell me ! ” cried Tanzy passion- 
ately, kissing the bright head and brow and cheeks. 

O, Gold ! I’m so sorry. But perhaps I can do 
something, for he said he wished I had that key.” 

That key ! ” cried Marigold, scornfully. I 
have hidden it and lost it. Don’t you remember, 
the locksmith came and fitted a new one ? He has 
more places than that to keep it. It make him de- 
ceitful ; it makes him irritable ; it makes him every- 
thing. The doctor said it was destroying his brain.” 

Perhaps Dr. Kenderdine can help him.” 


234 


FOURFOLD. 


Nohody can/^ emphasized Marigold^ ‘‘ nobody 
but the great God.^^ 

Oh^ I wish he would/^ cried Tanzy, hopefully. 
‘‘ Jesus Christ cast out evil spirits, and this is just 
as dreadful.’^ 

But he isn’t on earth now.” 

Isn’t he as powerful where he is as he was on 
earth ? He couldn’t lose his power, and I’m sure he 
couldn’t lose his pity.” 

“ But we cannot get to him ; I’d go all over the 
earth and go all my life, to find somebody to help papa.” 

Perhaps Mrs. Kenderdine knows.” 

‘‘1 would not tell her; I would not tell anybody,” 
cried Marigold, lifting her proud head. 

Dr. Kenderdine must know — if doctors know. 
Now I know that is why he said he could do nothing 
for him.” 

“ Now you will stay awake all night,” said Ma- 
rigold, contritely. “ It was wicked for me to 
tell you at night ; but I didn’t want you to speak to- 
morrow. You will only make him furious.” 

‘‘ Perhaps it will kiU him to give it up,” said 
Tanzy. ‘‘ The reaction might kill him.” 

He says it will, and that he would rather die 
with it than die without it.” 


A MIDNIGHT TALK, 


235 


‘‘ Did not any one ever give it up ? 

De Quincey.’’ 

De Quincey ! Tanzy repeated, as if the name 
would bring light. He was an Englishman — ^what 
else ? 

An opium-eater. You shall read about him to- 
morrow/^ promised the older sister with a comfort- 
ing kiss and caress. 

I want it to-night. How can you expect me 
to sleep ? I shall make him promise to give it up, 
as he did ! 

‘‘ Papa has no courage, no purpose. I do not 
believe he would or could do it, even for mamma, 
and he worships her.^^ 

And you, Gold.’^ 

And you,^^ said Marigold, with a sad, quick little 
laugh. ^^He loves us all, next to money and opium.^^ 

O Gold ! ” protested Tanzy. 

Great-grandfather didn’t know, or he would 
have left the money differently — or it may have 
been since then. I think Mr. Fiske knows ; but 
he knows papa will keep tight hold of his money. 
But I shall keep mine. You and I may need it 
yet. Now do you think I am covetous ? ” Marigold 
questioned, in a tone of triumph. 


236 


FOURFOLD, 


No, dear ; not if you keep it because it is not 
wise for papa to have it. But I have given my 
word.^^ 

Never mind it, then. I have enough for 
both.^' 

Where is the book ? I must see now — to- 
night, or I cannot go to sleep — ^how De Quincey 
gave it up.^^ 

You can%^^ said Marigold, rising. Here 
comes Nurse to put out the light and tuck us up in 
bed as she used to cold nights when we were 
little.’’ 

Before we had any trouble,” sighed Tanzy. 

Gold, tell Nurse where that book is.” 

Well, you persistent thing, if you must have it. 
Nurse, please bring me Confessions of an English 
Opium Eater.” It is on a table in the sitting-room. 
It is not a large book.” 

I will go myself. Nurse,” said Tanzy, kindly. 

I am selfish to send you about the house at 
night.” 

The lights are all out. Miss Tanzy.” 

I could always see in the dark.” 

You can’t see to read in the dark,” said Mari- 
gold. 


A MIDNIGHT TALK, 


237 


Even cats cannot do that/^ retorted Tanzy. 
^^Then, Nurse, you may liglit a candle for me. 
Papa will not let us take lamps about the 
house.’’ 

And we will put the lights out and put our- 
selves to bed,” promised Marigold, with unusual 
consideration. Tan, wouldn’t it be nice to have 
a maid ? Nurse is getting too old to run about for 
us.” 

^^No, I’m not. Miss Gold,” answered Nurse, 
sharply. You are not old enough for a maid ; 
you must have a nurse.” 

You will say that when we are seventy,” 
laughed Marigold. ^^Nevertheless, Nurse, when 
next we go abroad I shall have younger feet and 
younger eyes to wait on me.” 

That’s gratitude,” muttered the old woman, as 
with tear-blinded eyes she stumbled down the stairs. 

And the first time they were washed and dressed 
and kissed, I did it.” 

With their heads close together, the girls bent 
over the book Nurse brought them, Tanzy eagerly 
snatching at the meaning ; if this were true, was 
her father strong for such a mighty effort ? Must 
he rather, die ? 


238 


FOURFOLD. 


I must go over it again/^ she cried, neiTOUsly. 
Marigold drew herself away ; she knew her sis- 
ter would he stronger alone ; she was older to bear 
the knowledge of it than she herself had been five 
years ago. That was the time she was ill, and no 
one suspected the cause ; the physician had advised 
change,’^ and asked Nurse if she had a lover, 
thinking some disappointment might be at the 
foundation of the long mental and physical exhaus- 
tion. 

Disappointment!^^ she repeated, with scorn, it 
was my father ! Can there be any disappointment 
like that ? 

With not less eagerness, but with more carefulness, 
Tanzy read again the confession of the opium eater. 

“ ‘ It now remains that I should say something of 
the way in which this conflict of horrors was finally 
brought to its crisis. The reader is already aware 
(from a passage near the beginning of the introduc- 
tion to the first part) that the opium eater has, in 
some way or other, unwound, almost to its final links, 
the accursed chain which bound him. By what 
means ? To have narrated this, according to the 
original intention, would have far exceeded the 
space which can now be allowed. It is fortunate, as 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


239 


such a cogent reason exists for abiding it, that I 
should, on a maturer view of the case, have been 
exceedingly unwilling to injure, by any such un- 
affecting details, the impression of the history itself, 
as an appeal to the prudence and the conscience 
of the yet unconfirmed opium eater, or even (though 
a very inferior consideration) to injure its effect as a 
composition. The interest of the judicious reader 
will not attach itself chiefly to the subject of the 
fascinating spells, but to the fascinating power. 

Not the opium eater, but the opium is the true 
hero of the tale, and the legitimate centre on which 
the interest revolves. The object was to display 
the marvellous agency of opium, whether for pleasure 
or for pain ; if that is done, the action of the piece 
has closed. 

However, as some people, in spite of all laws to 
the contrary, will persist in asking what became of 
the opium eater, and in what state he now is, I an- 
swer for him thus : 

The reader is aware that opium had long ceased 
to found its empire on spells of pleasure; it was 
solely by the tortures connected with the attempt to 
abjure it, that it kept its hold. 

Yet, as other tortures, no less, it maybe thought. 


240 


FOURFOLD, 


attended the non-abjuration of such a tyrant, a 
choice only of evils was left ; and that might as well 
have been adopted, which, however terrific in itself, 
held out a prospect of final restoration to happi- 
ness/^ 

Gold, come here,^^ called Tanzy, imperatively. 

Marigold came reluctantly ; had she not been all 
through this herself ? Had she not been through 
everything ? 

“ Hear this/^ 

Tanzy read aloud the paragraph she had last 
read. 

If it is a choice of evils, we must help him to 
choose the least ; if there is a possibility of restora- 
tion, we must work on that,^^ she cried, in tearful 
eagerness. 

“ You mean he must.’^ 

Oh, I keep forgetting that we cannot do it for 
him; but De Quincey did it for himself.’^ 

“ Papa can never hold out as he did ; it was ter- 
rible.^^ 

‘ This appears true,^ read Tanzy aloud, ‘ but 
good logic gave the author no strength to act upon 
it.^^^ 

Isn’t that true ? Papa can be as reasonable, 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


241 


when he talks about it, as I am^ but there it ends/^ 

Sit down^ and let me read, it aloud. 

Marigold obeyed with a helpless and hopeless pro- 
test in her manner that Tanzy was too absorbed to 
note ; eagerly and hopefully Tanzy read : 

^ However, a crisis arrived for the author^s life, 
and a crisis for other objects still dearer to him, and 
which will always be far dearer to him than his life, 
even now that it is again a happy one.^ O Gold, 
what might our life be with papa like Susie Hart- 
well^s father ! If we can only make him love us 
well enough to do it.’^ 

Haven^t I tried ? Haven’t I been gentle and 
good ? And isn’t mamma as lovely to him as she 
can be ! O Tanzy, donH hope ! It will only be 
harder in the end. Give up, and let us be as happy 
as we can.” 

I shall never be happy again — another minute 
— as long as I live.” 

‘‘ I am — I even forget,” said Marigold, wearily. 

I cannot ; I hold on.” 

You will feel so for a long while, but one has 
to forget an4 be happy ; it is like catching your 
breath ; you have to catch it to live.” 

I don’t want to live — this way.” 

16 


242 


FOURFOLD, 


Not for me f Marigold^s eyes filled. 

I wish we might all die^ and hide the shame of it, 
and the horror of it ; Fve been so sorry for girls 
whose fathers were drunkards, and this is like it, as 
bad and worse. I am glad for his wife and daugh- 
ters ; I am glad he loved them so ; he must have 
had a different heart from poor papa. I^m so afraid 
I shall not love him any longer ; I am afraid I shall 
despise him, and think him cowardly and wicked and 
selfish, and I hate selfishness ! Tanzy cried, with 
flaming cheeks. 

‘‘ Read, please,^^ said Marigold, thinking to still 
her. Quieting herself with an effort, Tanzy read 
on : 

^ I saw that I must die if I continued the opium: 
I determined therefore, if that should be required, 
to die in throwing it off. How much I was at that 
time taking, I cannot say ; for the opium which I 
had used had been purchased for me by a friend, 
who afterward refused to let me pay him ; so that I 
could not ascertain even what quantity I had used 
within a year.^ If we could keep papa from buying 
it ! But we cannot keep him from having money.^^ 

‘‘ Do you know that forlorn old woman who pass- 
es here very often V’ asked Marigold, in her quiet 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


243 


voice.’’ She is very old, and tottering, and 
hardly has bread to eat ; she cannot work, now; 
she used to be a washerwoman; she lives with a 
worthless son, and begs from anybody who will 
pity her. Well, she goes by here on her way to get 
opium, or laudanum, or paregoric, anything in that 
line; she goes to a drug store in Falkland, and she 
buys it in as large or small quantities as she can get. 
Nurse knows about her, and Cook is very kind to 
her, and gives her milk and bread and meat, and 
money very often. I have expostulated with Cook, 
but she says the poor old soul will soon die anyway, 
and would die in a week without it. She gets it 
without being rich.” 

With a sigh as hopeless as Marigold’s own, Tanzy 
took up the thread of the confession : apprehend, 

however, that I took it very irregularly, that I 
varied from about fifty or sixty grains to one hun- 
dred and fifty a day. My first task, was to reduce 
it to forty, to thirty, and as fast as I could, to twelve 
grains.’ I can beg papa to let me do that for him.” 

As if I hadn’t,” exclaimed Marigold, impa- 
tiently. But go on ; it is not as easy as that seems.” 

^ I triumphed ; but think not, reader, that 
therefore my sufferings were ended ; now think of me 


244 


FOURFOLD, 


as one sitting in a dejected state. Think of me as 
of one, even when four months had passed, still agi- 
tated, writhing, throbbing, palpitating, shattered ; 
and much, perhaps, in the situation of him who has 
been racked, as I collect the torments of that state 
from the affecting account of them left by the most 
innocent sufferer (of the time of James I.).^ 

Can you endure that ? inquired Marigold. 

Can you go through that with him ? 

I wish there were some asylum to place him 

in.^' 

Who could put him there ? His children ? 

His wife might. 

Mamma ! She — can’t do anything.” 

Then if some doctor would take him ; we can 
pay anything ; I would give up every cent I own.” 

You have already.” 

You can use your money then.” 

Papa would never consent. Dr. Kenderdine 
would be firm enough — ^but, do not talk of it ; it is 
more than impossible; we are as helpless as we 
were the day we were born.” 

^^De Quincey says a crisis arrived for objects 
dearer to him than his life ; we are not in a crisis. 
We are, but he will never recognize it ; he does not 


A MIDNIGHT TALK, 


245 


see that he is spoiling our life ; he thinks he is sav- 
ing it. I wish this man could come and help us. 
I suppose he is dead ; this happened — ^when ? — he 
alludes to 1820 : ^ Meantime^ I derived no benefit 

from any medicine, except one prescribed to me by 
an Edinburgh surgeon of great eminence, namely, 
ammoniated tincture of valerian.^ 

We can get that,’^ said Tanzy, eagerly, inter- 
rupting her reading. 

Papa has taken it,^’ answered Marigold, quietly; 
^^he has tried again and again to reduce his daily 
allowance ; but he falls back and is worse than ever. 
For two days he did not take one drop, and the next 
he was crazy for it, and took two hundred. We 
both had a crying spell over it. Tanzy, dorUt hope! 
I believe he has tried with all his strength, I believe 
he resists, in a fashion, every day of his life.^^ 
Tanzy began to read again : 

^ Medical account, therefore, of my emancipa- 
tion I have not much to give ; and even that little, 
as managed by a man so ignorant of medicine as 
myself, would probably tend only to mislead. At 
all events it would be misplaced in this situation. 
The moral of the narrative is addressed to the opium 
eater ; and therefore of necessity limited in its ap- 


246 


FOURFOLD. 


plication. If lie is taught to fear and tremble^ 
enough has been effected. 

^ But he may say that the issue of my case is at 
least a proof that opium^ after a seventeen years^ 
use^ and an eight years^ abuse of its powers, may 
still be renounced ; and that he may chance to bring 
to the task greater energy than I did, or that, with a 
stronger constitution than mine, he may obtain the 
same results with less. This may be true ; I would 
not measure the efforts of other men by my own. I 
heartily wish him more energy; I wish him the 
same success. 

^ Nevertheless, I had motives external to myself 
which he may imfortunately want ; and these sup- 
plied me with conscientious supports, which mere 
personal interests might fail to supply to a mind de- 
bilitated by opium. Jeremy Taylor conjectures that 
it may be as painful to be born as to die. I think 
it probable ; and during the whole diminishing of 
the opium, I had the torments of a man passing out 
of one mode of existence into another.’ 

That sounds as though it were easily done,” 
said Marigold. He tells how one day, the first in 
ten years, he existed without one drop, and then he 
persevered for ninety hours, and then doesn’t dare 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


247 


tell us how much he took. He could not sleep ; 
his lower jaw swelled constantly ^ his mouth was 
ulcerated, and other distressing symptoms that he 
does not give. I do not believe papa has taken 
cold ; De Quincey never once took cold all the years 
he was eating opium j I think papa had a nervous 
chill; he is so easily startled; perhaps it was the old 
man’s death, or thinking about great-grandfather.” 

Tanzy shut the book ; she had lost all hope for 
her father. Must they live on and on without any 
end ? 

I wish I could run away,” were her first words. 

Mamma cannot — even if we can.” Marigold 
never forgot mamma; mamma who could not do 
anything. 

Poor mamma ! ” 

^^But she is not kept in and kept under as we 
are,” reasoned Marigold ; she has had her future.” 

We haven’t any,” said Tanzy. I thought I 
had this afternoon— I thought I had with my three 
wishes, when I came up-stairs. Lucinda, with nobody 
in the world but her dead grandfather, is happier 
than we are. And Margaret has everything. 0 
Gold, I want to run away ! I want to live with 
Margaret and her mother. If Jesus Christ were 


248 


FOURFOLD. 


walking by the sea of Galilee I wouldn^t rest until I 
reached him and told him about papa.^^ 

You may read to me, now, Tan ; I want some- 
thing before I go to sleep.^^ There was no help for 
Marigold in her sister^s thought of Jesus Christ. 

Tanzy found again the story of the brother who 
spoke to the Master about his inheritance, but Gold 
did not need that, and her eye glanced down the 
page. 

‘ And he said unto his disciples^ — this is after 
the brother came to him, and he told them not to 
covet money and lay up treasure, but this is his own 
way, the way he did : ‘ And he said unto his disci- 
ples — ^ those brothers he called, you know — these 
two brothers had not come, perhaps they were taken 
up with quarrelling about their inheritance, as you 
and I will not be taken up with ours — excuse my 
little commentaries, but they help me understand.’^ 

^^They help me, too,” said Marigold, hardly daring 
to hope that Tanzy’s latest enthusiasm might bring 
something real. 

“ ‘ Therefore I say unto you. Take no thought 
for your life, what ye shall eat ; neither for the 
body what ye shall put on. The life is more than 
meat, and the body is more than raiment. 


A MIDNIGHT TALK. 


249 


^ Consider the ravens : for they neither sow nor 
reap ; which neither have storehouse nor barn — ’ 
this rich man who died, had big barns and filled 
them full; but the ravens haven’t storehouse nor 
barn — they are like Lucinda ; ‘ and God feedeth 
them ; how much more are ye better than the 
fowls?’ 

This was his answer to the covetous brother ; do 
not seek for your rights even ; you are better than 
the fowls who have no storehouse ; you will be 
fed.” 

But we want to be more than fed,” said Mari- 
gold. That doesn’t touch our need.” 

Feeding is all the ravens want — perhaps it 
means he will give us all we want.” 

Yes, but he didn’t give that man his share of the 
inheritance,” objected Marigold. 

Because that wasn’t good for him, perhaps,” 
answered the commentator, after a moment’s reflec- 
tion. 

How do you know it wasn’t ? ” asked Marigold, 
who was not inclined to have her inheritance slight- 
ed. 

I do not know, but I am sure Christ knew,” said 
Tanzy, reverently. 


250 


FOURFOLD, 


‘‘ Well/^ assented Marigold^ but half satisfied. 

Tanzy made no reply until she read : 

‘ Fear not, little flock ; for it is your Father^s 
good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.^ That is 
an inheritance ; but I do not understand about the 
Kingdom. It helps me, even if I do not under- 
stand.^^ 

Faithful old Nurse was waiting in the hafl, crouch- 
ed on a rug, with her head resting on a cushioned 
chair ; she did not stir till the soft sound of the voices 
ceased, and then she tapped at the dressing-room 
door, and went in to help her little girls for the 
night ; no other hands and feet should serve them 
as long as hers had life in them; for whom else in 
the world had she ? 


XVI. 

THE NEXT MORNING. 

A dull axe never loves grindstones ; but a keen workman 
does, and be puts bis tool on tbem in order tbat tbey may be 
sharp. And men do not like grinding ; but tbey are dull for 
tbe purposes wbicb God designs to work out witb tbem, 
and therefore be is grinding tbem.” 

May I not see papa to-day ? asked Tanzy. 
do not know, I am sure/^ answered her 
mother. 

This formula answered the questions of her 
daughters oftener than in any other way. In a 
naughty mood Tanzy had said that it was something 
to be sure one didn^t know. 

Is he soiUr' 

He is weak. He is nervous. He said no one 
was to come near him until he sent for them. He 
sent me away.’’ 

Tanzy arose from the breakfast table. Marigold 
sat still. If nothing were to be done, it might as 
well be done sitting still. 


(2bi\ 


252 


FOURFOLD. 


I wish you would ask him, mamma, if I am to 
send the telegram to Mr. Fiske. I must know that. 
The other things can wait.^^ 

I do not like to disturb him, Tan.^’ 

Then I will disturb him.^^ 

Tanzy intended to speak with quiet dignity; 
instead she spoke with controlled irritation, and 
the controlled irritation was in her voice when she 
asked admittance at the door of her fathers dress- 
ing-room. 

Yes. Come in,^’ answered the voice within, 
also in a state of controlled irritation. 

It was chilly and rainy. The figure huddled 
together on a couch under a gay silk quilt of her 
mothers fashioning, seemed ^o shrink still more 
within itself as she entered, and the muffled voice 
spoke from the depths of a pillow. 

I gave orders not to be disturbed, Louise.^^ 

Yes, papa.’’ The Louise ” was ominous. 

She stationed herself in the centre of the small 
room, with no desire to give her father the usual 
morning kiss. 

What do you want ? ” he asked gruffly, hurt by 
the omission. 

I wished to ask if you would like me to send 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


253 


the telegram to Mr. Fiske/’ she answered^ courte- 
ously. — 

You might know I am in no condition to see 
him to-day ! he returned, with a change of 
tone. 

I wanted to ask you, too, papa — (Here the 
brave voice trembled, but she gathered courage at 
the thought of Marigold’s pleading eyes.) You 
know you kindly gave me three wishes ” 

Yes, I know, and you will take advantage of 
my clemency ” 

I am your daughter,” said Tanzy, bitterly. I 
am not a — criminal.” 

^^Of my fatherly indulgence — ^if you like that 
better, and ask for impossible things.” 

It is this, for poor Gold.” (Again the loving, 
brave voice faltered.) Promise not to speak to her 
about her own money. She will not waste it. 
She will not do ridiculous things, as you are afraid 
I will do. Let her have it in peace.” 

Didn’t I promise last night ? ” he asked, 
lazily. 

hardly know what was said. Last night 
seems ages ago. I do not think I have slept one 
half-hour since.” 


254 


FOURFOLD. 


No matter what was said. It is disannulled. 
I gave you three wishes for yourself, not for 
your sister ; arousing himself to speak with em- 
phasis. 

Then can I not ask for her asked Tanzy, in- 
dignantly. 

No. You may ask for yourself alone.^^ 

^^Papa! that is not fair/^ she cried, her eyes 
kindling with the anger she found it hard to re- 
strain. 

I reserve the right to determine what is fair. 
You may go, Louise.^^ 

^^0, papa!^^ she cried, bursting into tears, as 
with a quick movement, she threw herself down 
beside his couch, and laid her head beside his 
on the pillow. If you will only be good and 
kind and considerate to us ! If you will let us 
love you and help you ! What we ask is innocent 
and good, and cannot hurt us ! And we are old 
enough to choose for ourselves.’^ 

You chose yesterday going to see that crazy 
old man. I am glad he is out of the world.^^ 

So am I,^^ said Tanzy, solemnly. Pm glad 
there^s another world for him.’^ 

Now, what do you want to do to-day ? 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


255 


‘‘ I want to die ! ” she cried, with a sob. 

I have wished that more times than I dare say, 
hut I am not dead,” he answered, with assumed 
lightness. 

“ Then I want to he comforted.” 

“ So do I ; and where is my comfort ? ” 

<< I know there is comfort — somewhere.” 

“Not on this pillow, with you stifling the air. 
Go away, daughter. When I want you or anybody 
I will ring for you. I will send for Fiske 
when I want him. Your word is as good as your 
bond. Be off with you ! ” he added, with an effort 
at playfulness. 

“ Papa,” she said, rising, “ I am going to see 
Mrs. Kenderdine.” 

“ Very well ; she cannot get your money away 
from you,” he permitted, , coarsely. 

“ Do you think she is an adventurer ? ” asked 
Tanzy, with fine scorn. 

“ I do not know what she is ; I do not know what 
anybody is. Tell your mother I want her to read 
to me. Shs never worries me.” 

“ Will you see Dr. Kenderdine again ? ” Tanzy 
ventured. 

“ m” 


256 


FOURFOLD. 


I send to Falkland for Dr. Stevens^ ihenV^ 

No ; I want no doctor. What can minister to 
a mind diseased ? he cried, with starting tears of 
self-pity. 

May I have a fire in the study ? she persisted. 

In grandfather’s study ? Is that one of your 
requests ? ” he asked, suspiciously. 

No,” said Tanzy, with a touch of anger. 

I don’t care what you do in that room, or any- 
where else. All I do care for is peace.” 

Without another word, Tanzy went away. Were 
her three wishes, that were every everything to her, 
nothing to her father ? If she might not ask for 
Gold and Lucinda, what difference did it make 
whether she had any wishes or not ? Almost what 
difference did it make whether she had any father 
or not ? 

Mamma, papa wishes you to read to him ! ” she 
said, entering the breakfast room, ^^and Gold, I 
made my request for you and he said I had no 
right to ask for any one beside myself j so that’s 
ended.” 

No, it is not,” returned Marigold. 

I am going to see Mrs. Kenderdine ; do you 
wish to go, too ? ” 


THE JSTEXT MORNING. 


257 


I wish you would; she will talk to us.^’ 

I do not wish to be talked to/^ said Marigold, 
coolly. 

She has promised to help me,” interposed their 
mother. I cannot work as high up as I want to, it 
tires my arm, and she has promised to put some of 
the roof in for me ; that is hard for me ; my arm is 
so tired, Ihn afraid I shall have paralysis, and 
then what will become of my picture ? ” 

Poor dear,” cried Marigold, caressingly, as if I 
couldn^t finish it for you ! You shall not be disap- 
pointed if I can help it. You ask so little of life, it 
is a pity if you cannot have that little.” 

Tan, I wish you would read to your father, 
and let me watch Gold, while she works. It 
would break my heart if she should spoil any- 
thing.” 

He has sent me away ; he does not approve of 
me to-day. We will both behave ourselves better 
next time.” 

Tan, I wish you were gentle, like Gold,” remon- 
strated the soft voice. 

I am not good — like Gold ; I am cross and 

fierce and angry ; there is hatred in my heart. I 
17 


258 


FOURFOLD. 


wish I knew how to keep on loving when I lose trust 
and respect. Papa cannot give me that wish.” 

It was ten oVlock, for the breakfast hour was late 
at Daisy Fields. Mrs. Henderson, with a distrustful 
look towards Marigold, stationed before her gobelin 
work, went up to her husband to read to him or talk 
to him, to sing to him, to bear sweetly whatever 
mood he chanced to be in, from hour to hour; and 
Tanzy, wrapping herself in a waterproof, with 
Nurse^s New Testament under her arm, ran across 
the street to Mrs. Kenderdine. 

Mamma will be delighted,” exclaimed Margaret, 
meeting her on the piazza; she is in her room with 
a fire in the cunningest little stove ! I have to be 
busy down-stairs, and Mark, queerly enough, for we 
can’t seem to think of him as a full-fledged doctor, 
has had to go to Mansfield to see somebody who 
is ill.” 

The pretty room, the fire in the cunning little 
stove, and the cordial welcome from the white-robed 
figure on the bed, touched Tanzy with a new sense 
of having found something. She was imder shel- 
ter. 

I’ve brought my book,” she said, after Marga- 
ret had seated her at the bedside, and then left her 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


259 


with her mother j ^^but I fear I shall trouble you; 
you are ill to-day.’^ 

No; I am only resting after my delightful yes- 
terday ; my resting times always have to come in 
between.^’ 

^^Are you sure I shall not weary you?^^ 

I am sure you will rest me/^ 

I came to you to be rested. Mrs. Kenderdine, 
I wanted to die a while ago. I do not see what 
life is forP 

‘‘ That is what that book is for — to tell you.^^ 
get but a glimmer as I read.^^ 

A glimmer of the Light that God sent into the 
world to lighten its darkness ; the world would be 
darkj but for Christ, the Son of God.^^ 

‘‘ My father^s world is dark, and he knows it ; my 
mother^s world is dark, and she does not know it. 
My world is all dark.’^ 

Christ knows that.^^ 

‘‘ But I do not understand all he says. I do not 
understand what he said to the brother about his in- 
heritance. May I read it to you ? But, of course, 
you know it.^^ 

Not too well to hear it again, Mrs. Kenderdine 


260 


FOURFOLD. 


returned^ smiling at the flush^ the eagerness, and 
appeal in the beautiful face. 

In her heart she was giving thanks that this girl 
had come to her. His word through her would ac- 
complish that which he pleased. 

I wanted to know what Jesus thought about 
riches and rich people ; I wished to know what he 
thought of us, and what we were for, and I chanced 
to find this. Perhaps you don^t know — everybody 
about here knows that papa’s grandfather built Daisy 
Fields ; he left all his money to papa and mamma, 
and to Gold and me when we were twenty-one. I 
never thought about money at all, until I had some 
of my own, and began to see that must mean some- 
thing. Susie Hartwell said money was a trust, and 
the rich man was only a steward, and that she and 
Bess, her splendid sister, were trying to be faithful 
stewards. Then Lucinda’s grandfather happened, 
and I wished to know what Jesus would have said 
to him. What a large question money is ! I do not 
see how any one can decide but the Son of God. If 
that old man had gone to him and asked that he 
might get his money, do you think he would have 
told him not to be covetous ? ” 

He certainly would, if it were simply desire of 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


261 


gain that prompted him. This man had listened 
to the teachings of the Lord — read what those teach- 
ings are.^^ 

Tanzy read, beginning at the time when there 
were gathered together an innumerable multitude 
of people, so much so that they crowded and pushed 
and trod upon one another. And the Lord taught 
them; he said : I say unto you, my friends.^^ 

He taught them that five sparrows were sold for 
two farthings, and not one of them, although worth 
so little to men, was forgotten before God; and 
even the hairs of the head of all that multitude were 
numbered ; and then with God^s knowledge of them, 
even knowing about them what they could not know 
about themselves, he told them that whoever believed 
in the Son of man and confessed him before men, this 
same Son of man should confess before the angels 
of God. God could not make a mistake, he could 
not miss one sparrow, so how could he miss him ? 
Not one hair escaped his knowledge and watchful- 
ness, so how could one word or thought escape him? 
And then, after the confession before men, if they 
would be brought before synagogues and magistrates 
and powers, the Holy Ghost would teach them what 
to think and answer. 


262 


FOURFOLD. 


And then it was that this man of the company 
spoke and asked the Teacher who knew God’s will^ 
to be a judge between himself and his brother, who 
was wronging him out of his inheritance. 

^^How does that question strike you, coming in 
just there ? ” asked Mrs. Kenderdine, as Tanzy 
paused. 

As if he cared more for his inheritance than any- 
thing else the Lord had been saying.” 

If he did, the Lord knew it, and warned him, 
and told him that his life consisted not in having an 
abundance of things.” 

An abundance of things is very unsatisfying,” 
said Tanzy; ^^we don’t know what Lo wish for, — of 
such things. And we are as unhappy as we can be 
— now : we have not always been. He told them to 
consider the ravens, who have no store-house, no 
abundance of things, and God fed them. But I 
want something more than to be fed ; is that all God 
can do for us ? ” she asked, wistfully. 

^^What did he do — ^what does he do for the 
ravens ? ” 

Only feeds them,” was the disappointed answer. 

What else do they need ? ” 

They have the air, they have shelter, they have 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


263 


clothing — I don^t know anything else they do need/^ 
said Tanzy; with slow thoughtfulness. 

Then God gives them all they need ? 

Yes.'' 

What is Christ's question about them ? " 

Tanzy looked down upon the book and read : 

How much more are ye better than the 
fowls ?" 

Do you know how much better you are % " asked 
Mrs. Kenderdine, smiling. 

I know something of the how much/' said Tan- 
zy, smiling also. 

Then his care for you and what he gives you 
are as much better as you are much better than the 
ravens." 

The ravens have nothing left to wish for." 

Neither shall you, dear," said Mrs. Kenderdine, 
with all her motherhood in voice and eyes. 

And he told this man that even if his brother 
would not divide the inheritance, that he should 
have everything he wished for. So he did an- 
swer him, after all ; I was afraid he didn't 
care." 

He gave him a perfect answer, if he only knew 
how to take it." 


264 


FOURFOLD, 


Perhaps he wished him to leave his inheritance 
and follow him. He could not take care of it if it 
were money and houses and land; and still go about 
with him; as his disciples did.’^ 

Property seems to have been a hindrance in 
those dayS; doesn^t it ? 

Is it noW; do you think % was the girFs earnest 
question. 

If my husband had an estate in America; it 
would hinder his work somewhat.^^ 

‘‘ Then I am glad he has not;^^ said Tanzy; who 
seemed to know nothing of riches beside their 
power to hinder. 

A friend of mine; a school friend; is teaching in 
South America ; she has a flourishing girls^ school 
there ; her father recently died; and left her a farm 
in this State ; do you think she will come home and 
take care of it ? 

^^No; indeed;’^ was the quick response. 

Some of her friends think she should ; but she 
isn^t troubled about it. It will be tilled without her.’^ 

But everybody doesn^t go to South America and 
India;^^ objected Tanzy. 

‘‘ Then what must the people who stay at home 


THE NEXT MORNING, 


265 


‘‘ That is exactly what I am anxious to know/^ 

Christ bids us all to go to work/’ said Mrs. Ken- 
derdine. 

I am ready for that/’ cried Tanzy, with what 
Marigold called the electric light in her eyes. 

We are to go to work with what we have 5 what 
he has given us to work with.” 

I suppose I have sufficient to work with/’ re- 
flected Tanzy. 

Sufficient ! My dear child, what haven’t you ? 
You have youth, health, education, money, time, 
desire, a winning face, and winning manner. ' If 
you lack any one thing, it is — ” 

I do not know how — ” 

Something comes before that.” 

Before knowledge ? how can that be ? ” 

^^It will be better for you to learn without being 
told ; you will certainly learn what it is.” 

But that will not give it to me if I haven’t any 
of it now.” 

No : it is the gift of Grod,” said the solemn, 
sweet voice. 

Then I can have it 5 ” said Tanzy, in a sure 
voice; that belongs to the how much more I am 
better than the ravens.” 


266 


FOURFOLD. 


Mrs. Kenderdine kept still and marvelled at the 
girPs clear thinking. 

I am sure you will have it.’^ 

Has Margaret found it ? ” 

I think she has.’^ 

And Dr. Kenderdine f 

‘‘ In a measure. He is growing.^’ 

Can I find it in this book ? 

Indeed you can ; study John and Paul and 
Peter; they had it without measure — after the as- 
cension.^^ 

“ The ascension ? repeated Tanzy, in some con- 
fusion. 

‘‘ Do you not know about the Lord’s ascen- 
sion ? ” 

Oh yes. Fve seen pictures. We have seen 
pictures of everything. I shouldn’t know anything 
about the Bible but for pictures. Papa used to tell 
us the history of the pictures ; but it seemed like 
myths. All the pictures had a history. We 
always look up the story of the pictures ; that is 
one way we have amused papa. We saw pictures 
with Susie Hartwell and Bess, and papa was not 
pleased because they told us to read the Bible to 
learn about them. He said he could teU us all we 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


267 


needed to know. But he never told us what I am 
finding out. Mrs. Kenderdine, do you know all 
about De Quincey ? 

I know his opium experience.’^ 

I know that. What else did he do ? ” 

He was a fine Greek scholar. He contributed 
to British periodicals. Wordsworth, Coleridge and 
Southey were among his friends. After two un- 
successful trials, he overcame his opium habit.” 

After two trials ? Did he fail twice ? ” asked 
Tanzy, in disappointed dismay. 

a IVe read somewhere that after writing a 
paper he would toss it over his head to his study 
floor, and his daughters would pick it up and sell 
it to the publishers.” 

I can understand that,” said Tanzy. I 
suppose he had not force enough to do anything 
else.” 

‘‘ What are you studying — beside the New 
Testament ? ” inquired Mrs. Kenderdine, with 
seeming abruptness. 

Nothing now. We take up studies to amuse 
papa. Everything we do is to amuse papa. Gold 
cares for languages. She is our interpreter. I 
would like to know the history of opium.” 


268 


FOURFOLD, 


It has a long history/^ 

It must have. Haven’t the English had some- 
thing to do with it ? 

They have had enough to do with it to make 
the memory of it a reproach for ever. For years 
the British power flooded China with this Indian 
drug. It is fresh in my mind, because as you 
came in I was reading about it. The Chinese, 
seeing how body and mind were being destroyed as 
well as all moral sense, made severe prohibitory 
laws and destroyed the trade, and ten years after- 
ward made the use of opium a capital offence ; and 
then — taking the book from where it had slipped 
between her pillows, she read a paragraph — and 
destroyed British stock to the amount of $20,000,- 
000. Then followed a war which in 1842 wrested 
from the Chinese government concessions in favor of 
free trade in opium, but intensified the hatred of all 
foreigners.^ 

Was it forced on the poor Chinese then ? 
asked Tanzy, with glowing eyes. I do not like 
to believe that of England. It will make me hate 
England, and I loved it. I should think Chinese 
girls would hate England ! 0, Mrs. Kenderdine, 

I want to tell you something, and I do not 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


269 


dare.’^ Tanzy dropped her head with a sob. 

^^No matter^ dear. Some things are learned 
best without being told. Run down and see 
Margaret in the kitchen. She is baking cake.^^ 

Will I see that thing you spoke of?^^ asked 
Tanzy j raising her burning face. 

Mrs. Kenderdine laughed. 

see it in everything. It requires spiritual 

eyes.’^ 

Will you let me come again ? she asked^ with 
pretty persuasiveness. 

Every day, if you will.^^ 

Tanzy^s impulse was to kiss the sweet, pale 

face, but her shyness resisted it ; and with a word 

% 

of thanks and good-bye, she went down to the 
kitchen to Margaret. 

Mark stood at a table breaking off the end of the 
hot sponge cake Margaret had taken from the 
oven; Margaret was scolding in a laughing way, 
and saying he should have no cake with his ice- 
cream, and he retorted that he would run off to 
Lake George and summer with the Hartwells; 
Bess had written to him, and he was thinking 
of it. 

Tanzy^s first question was concerning Lucinda. 


270 


FOURFOLD. 


Miss Lynn told me she was coming to you Fri- 
day morning ; she is anxious to earn money. Maria 
insists that he shall not be buried in the family plot, 
and Lucinda is not willing that he should be laid in 
the comer devoted to the poor ; she has arranged 
to purchase ground, and that, with the funeral ex- 
penses, will be a large sum for her to earn. Maria 
declares that an unpainted pine cofBn will be good 
enough. It is almost amusing to hear Miss Lynn 
tell the story ; and Lucinda proudly insists upon one 
covered with cloth, with plated silver handles ; I 
think that costs fifty dollars ; Maria says it is ridicu- 
lous, and Miss Lynn agrees partly with her and 
partly with poor, proud, loyal Lucinda. Any way, 
it is decided ; Lucinda is to have her way and earn 
the money to pay the debt. Miss Lynn would de- 
fray some of the expenses, but that Maria has her 
under her thumb, and she doesn^t know the way 
out from under.’^ 

I can do it,’^ said Tanzy. I am not under 
Maria’s thumb.” 

You can do it by paying her what she fairly 
earns ; she will accept no other help, I am certain.” 

She asks a dollar a day,” said Margaret, smooth- 
ing the broken edge of her cake. 


THE NEXT MORNING. 


271 


Fifty days’ work for tHe coffin ! ” exclaimed 
Tanzy, dismayed. 

That will not include the entire expense/’ said 
Mark; she is plucky : she will earn it.” 

I shall keep her as long as I can/’ said Tanzy. 

Nurse is failing ; we need some one to take her 
place.” 

Maria proposed mourning for Lucinda/’ Mark 
went on, and she ‘ colored up ’ Miss Lynn said, 
and said she would have no mourning ; her mourn- 
ing was for his life, not his death.” 

I l%ke her,” said Tanzy, heartily. 

There is something very graceful about her,” 
Mark added, moving away with another bit of broken 
sponge cake. 

Tanzy remembered that her father had not ex- 
tended the golden sceptre for any one beside her- 
self ; but then he might be taken ” with Lucinda ; 
he often was taken with unusual people, and this 
girl, who had to stand at the wash-tub, and churned, 
and sewed, and had not a real friend in the world, 
was her rare self as she had made herself. Papa 
would certainly be touched when he knew that she 
was working and saving to buy that coffin and to 
buy ground to bury it in. 


XVil. 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS. 

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.” 

As she stepped out of this house of peace and 
sped across the street in the rain^ words that she had 
lately read, sung themselves over again and again 
to her : 

The rain above, 

A mother^s love, 

i^nd God’s companionship.” 

This Margaret had it all. 

She found her mother alone in the bay-window, 
crouching on the carpet at the foot of her easel, in 
childish attitude, sobbing like a child. 

Why, mamma ! she exclaimed, dropping down 
beside her, and taking her into her arms, as she 
would take a child, what can be the matter ? Has 
your princess run away from you and married a 
prince ? 

It has aU run away from me — the whole pic- 
ture. Gold can^t do it to suit me.’^ 

( 272 ) 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS, 


273 


Then I can, I know I can,^^ comforted Tansy ; 
you often say Tan can do anything.^^ 

But you can^t do this. I don^t want you to do 
it. I want to do it myself.’^ 

Then Bll show you how.’^ 

You can%^^ with a fresh burst of tears. It 
can^t be done. IVe tried it in a frame on my lap, 
and IVe tried it on the easel. It tires me to death, 
and then it doesn^t suit me. It is the disappoint- 
ment of my life.^^ 

Oh no, it isn’t, said Tanzy, with conscious 
sarcasm; ^^it was the disappointment of your life 
when your big St. Bernard died. People don’t have 
two such disappointments in one life-time. I Jcnow 
I can find a waj' out for you,” she cried, her heart 
softening towards the sobbing figure in her arms. 
Giving her a kiss she sprang up, and in her strong 
arms, lifted her little mother to her feet. 

''Where is Gold?” 

" Gone away. I’m afraid I was cross about the 
picture. I think that is what I was crying about.” 

" 0, mamma, I wish you would go and see Mrs. 
Kenderdine. She lives for something.” This time 
the sarcasm was unconscious. 

" What is it ? What does she do ? Does she 


18 


274 


FOURFOLD. 


care for fancy-work ? she inquired, in her innocent 
voice. 

don^t know/^ said Tanzy, laughing to keep 
herself from crying. I do not know what she does; 
I only know what she is.’^ 

I do not want to know her ; I want to work on 
my picture. Papa did not care for my reading ; I 
could not find any book to suit him. He asked 
where you were.’^ 

Where is he 

In grandfather’s study, with a fire. He wanted 
a fire, and he wants you.” 

He sent me away two hours ago,” said Tanzy, 
with a spice of rebellion. 

He wants you now,” remarked her mother, 
placidly, don’t be naughty. Tan.” 

But Tan was naughty, she would not go up to 
grandfather’s study until after lunch. The fire had 
died out upon the hearth, the wind brushed the 
locust branch against the window, torn papers were 
scattered about the hearth-rug. The room appeared 
dismal to Tanzy, as she opened the door. Her father 
in his wrapper, lounging in one chair with his feet 
in another, did not make the general appearance 
any less dismal. The sun had seemed to be shining 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS. 


275 


in Mrs. Kenderdine^s chamber ; there was no sun- 
shine here. 

Have you brought something to read to me ? ’’ 
was his greeting. 

I did not know what you would like.’^ 

Nobody seems to know to-day 

Perhaps there is something here.^^ 

There’s nothing here.” 

Yes, there is ! 0, papa, here’s a big Bible.” 

He turned his head j there was a large Bible on 
his grandfather’s desk. 

I wanted the whole Bible. Papa, you like an- 
cient literature; isn’t this book ancient enough? 
Don’t you think Christ was as wonderful as Plato, 
or Socrates, or Confucius, or Buddha ? ” she ques- 
tioned rapidly and eagerly. 

^'Yes.” 

Then why do you not read his teachings ? ” 

I have read them.” 

But one cannot get into the depths at one read- 
ing. I’ve heard you say a life-time would not ex- 
haust Plato.” 

What has that to do with it ? ” 

If Christ be as wonderful, one reading cannot 
exhaust his wisdom.” 


276 


FOURFOLD, 


suppose you want to read to me again about 
that rich man. Perhaps if you read it you will get 
it out of my thoughts ; it haunts me^ it was in my 
dreams.^^ 

He rubbed his forehead as if awaking himself 
out of sleep. With his grandfather’s Bible, Tanzy 
seated herself in a corner of the worn horse-hair 
sofa ; resting an elbow on the horse-hair pillow, she 
opened the big musty volume in her lap. 

Beginning with the interruption of the man in the 
company, she read the story of the rich man, whom 
God called a fool. 

Oh, papa, now I know,” she exclaimed, lifting 
her bright face. Christ did notice the poor broth- 
er’s request. I suppose the rich brother was there 
in the crowd, and he thought he would speak to him 
about the inheritance then ; and, you see, he did ; 
this story was for him. If he took it to heart in- 
stead of building bigger barns, he must have shared 
the inheritance with his brother. He did speak to 
him, and to every other rich man.” 

Every rich man does not wrong some one. 
I’ve told you that before, daughter.” 

Oh no, oh no, indeed,” said Tanzy, earnest- 
ly. I know you do not. But if we are not 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS, 


277 


covetous, and if we seek to help people, we shall 
not be in this rich man’s danger. I do not want to 
be in the rich man’s danger. I hope some other 
rich man was in the crowd. The Son of God 
knew to whom he was speaking.” 

There was something fascinating to her father in 
her simple, real way of taking the Lord’s words. 
He was weary of books. She did not seem to be 
reading from a book. It was as if she had heard 
the Lord speak, and was telling him about it. The 
desire to know what his grandfather had learned 
from this book mastered him. He had determined 
within himself never to know ; but some over- 
mastering will urged him on. The name of the 
book, the chapter, and the verse, were burnt into 
his memory. 

Traced in his grandfather’s feeble lines in that 
last solemn message, they had kept themselves 
before his eyes in dreams and hamited waking 
moments ; all he knew of them was that they had 
roused his grandfather’s conscience and impelled him 
to a late restoration. 

Tanzy, find Luke, nineteenth chapter, eighth 
verse.” 

Finding it, she read aloud : 


278 


FOURFOLD. 


^ And Zaccheus stood and said unto the Lord : 
Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the 
poor ; and if T have taken anything from any man 
by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.^ 

She looked up, waiting, but her father did not 
speak. 

Tanzy read the story through ; such a wonderful 
story, almost more wonderful than any of the others; 
the little rich man in the tree, and J esus looking up 
and calling him by name, and inviting himself to 
stay at his house. 

How could he but receive him joyfully ! 

Then the people murmured, saying he was a sin- 
ner. But the Lord was willing and glad to go home 
with him and abide. He gave half his goods to the 
poor, and where he had wronged any, made four- 
fold restoration. 

0, papa, wasn’t that grand ? ” she cried, enthu- 
siastically, he made fourfold restoration.” 

That was according to the Eoman law,” replied 
her father, coolly. 

Then Fm glad of one of the Roman laws.” 

Nothing less than that would satisfy you.” 

I should want to give it all — all I had. You 
cannot tell how a person’s life may be changed, and 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS. 


279 


what they have suffered by being wronged ! Money 
cannot repay everything. For you take away all 
the good somebody might do. Fm glad the Eoman 
law was as just as that.^^ 

As generous ! exclaimed her father ; you are 
childish Tanzy, you reason like a woman. I told 
you that book would carry you away.^^ 

We were speaking of the Eoman law, papa/’ 
said Tanzy, with gentle dignity. 

Shut it up. Fve had enough for one day.^^ 

Obeying in the spirit, for she kept it shut from 
him, but open to herself, she read on, fascinated ; no 
stories had ever fascinated her like these stories in 
the days of Christ. 

But there the story of Zaccheus ended ; she 
would never know the questions the rich man who 
had been a sinner asked of his guest, the Son of 
God. 

Papa, it puzzles me — ^the stories end so abrupt- 
ly— I always want to know more.’^ 

That book was not written to satisfy a childish 
curiosity,^^ he replied, impatiently. 

No,’^ said Tanzy, reverently and admir- 
ingly. 

After watching her awhile as she read, her 


280 


FOURFOLD, 


father inquired : What do you think it was 

written for ? 

For all the world to know about God^s Son/^ 
Tanzy replied, shutting the book and pushing it off 
her lap. 

^^Papa/^ resting both elbows on the horse- 
hair pillow, as she brought it into her lap, what 
have you done all your life ? 

Kead, travelled, taken care of my money, he 
answered, with a lofty air. 

I want to do something else besides.’^ 

I know you do, you puss,^^ he returned, smiling 
at her earnestness. 

I am ready to ask for something for my- 
self she said, impressively. 

I am ready to hear it,^^ was the laconic 
answer. 

Her face, half turned to him, was more than 
serious. It was perplexed, determined. 

I wish you would give me one day in the 
week for myself. The tone was meek, but it 
irritated him. One day a week ! Was she a slave ? 
Was he a tyrant ? 

Have you not every day in the week for your- 
self? he asked, sharply. 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS, 


281 


. have not any day as I desire to have 

this/^ she answered^ sadly. 

One day in which your father and mother 
shall have no right to you^ make no demand % 

Mamma’s rights do not interfere. She always 
yields when I am reasonable.” 

^^Well, when is it?” ho questioned, lightly; 

Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday ? ” 

It is the first day of the week,” she answered, 
gravely. 

What difference does the first day make ? ” 

All the difference. It is the Lord’s day, and I 
wish to give it to him.” 

Oh, Sunday ! ” he exclaimed, impatiently. 

Talk sense. Don’t talk cant.” 

I do not know what cant is. This book calls it 
by that name.” 

One day is not his any more than any 
other ! ” 

‘‘ ‘ The first day of the week, while it was yet 
dark,’ ” she quoted. 

Oh, I know that. These stories are not new 
to me. I have read everything. Take your 
first day if you must ! Much good may it do 
you ! ” he said with a contempt that for the moment 


282 


FOURFOLD. 


made him coarse in her eyes. His refinement had 
been his boast ; and now he was altogether coarse. 

You have given it to me. It is minCj^ she 
insisted, eagerly. It is only one day out of 

seven for me to have.’^ 

And all the rest you are in bondage ! To hear 
you plead, one would think your father was a 
tyrant. 

‘‘ Oh, no ! she said, playfully, catching her 
breath, as if to recover something. You are only 
Papa Caprice.^’ 

It would not be his way to speak of it again. It 
was all said. The rest of it was to live it, and how 
joyfully would she do that ! 

Mamma is asleep. Gold tucked her up on that 
big old wide sofa in the sewing-room. She said she 
loved to hear the rain on the roof,^^ Tanzy went on. 

Did she miss anything, Tanzy wondered, as she 
thought of her laying cuddled up like a child, and 
listening to the rain. Gold sat beside her with a 
book. She would put out her hand and touch Gold. 
Tanzy knew the motion ; and she would smile and 
shut her eyes. Papa had never allowed her to 
grow up, and now she did not know that she had 
anything to grow up for. 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS, 


283 


Out with your two other wishes^ daughter ! 
Let me have them and be through with them/^ 
have not two others — for myself.’^ 

You will in time. I suppose you would wish 
to stay in this dull place all summer and make 
friends with those Kenderdines. I shall leave 
Daisy Fields one month from to-day. I do not 
care if I never come back. I intend to put the 
Atlantic between me and this room for one five 
years. Fiske shall come first and make my 
will.’^ 

And mine/^ cried Tanzy, gayly ; and give 
my money to you.^^ 

Who says 

^ Because the way is short, I thank thee, God.^ 

I do, most devoutly. I should like to have that cut 
on the stone you put over me. Oh ! for a quiet 
brain, and no thoughts to think ! 

He brushed his thin, yellow fingers wearily over 
his forehead and eyes. 

Because the way is short, I thank thee, God,^^ 
he murmured. 

Tanzy^s heart seemed bursting with bearing her 
fathers burdens. Would she ever dare to speak 
her wish for him ? Would he care to hear about 


284 


FOURFOLD, 


the ravens^ and how they were fed? Would any 
of Christas words touch him ? 

If Plato had spoken it, perhaps he might 
care ! she thought with bitterness. 

Papa,’’ she ventured timidly, I wish I could 
read to you about the ravens.” 

Poe’s raven ? ” he asked, listlessly. 

Oh no ! ” she said, provoked. That’s only 
sound.” 

Sound sense.” 

I don’t want any silken, sad, uncertain 
rustling of a purple curtain to-day. I v/ant hard 
truth.” 

Mrs. Browning, then : 

^ He hears the young ravens when they cry, 

And yet they cry for carrion.’” 

Carrion is all they know to cry for,’^ she an- 
swered, thinking that once that was all she knew to 
cry for. 

Bringing the book toward her^ she again opened 
it, and began to read : Consider the ravens : for 
they neither sow nor reap ; which neither have 
storehouse nor barn ; and God feedeth them : how 
much better are ye than the fowls ? ’ ^ Because 

the way is short, I thank thee, God.’ ” 


PURPOSES AND THOUGHTS. 285 

She read the quotation from Mrs. Browning with- 
out a change of tone, as if it were a part of the 
Lord^s words. 

He gave her a startled look of inquiry. 

The ravens are fed without any store-house — 
and on carrion — why shouldn’t they be glad of the 
short way ? As glad as we are^ who are so much 
better than the fowls ? I think it would be ungrate- 
ful if a raven should say it ! ” 

Ravens do not have the devil in them/’ he said, 
sullenly. 

Neither did the man, after Christ cast him out. 
Oh^ may I read that too ? ” 

^^ Read any where/’ he assented, more interested 
than he cared to reveal. She was irrepressible; he 
might as well let her have her wa}^. She made a 
fuss and had her way; Marigold did not make a fuss 
and had her way ; for their sakes and his own, might 
he not better put an end to his battled existence ? 

While she was studying a page to find the story 
she read before lunch, Nurse came to the door with 
a message ; the minister from Mansfield had called ; 
if Mr. Henderson were disengaged, he would be 
glad to see him. 

That man ! ” exclaimed Ernest Henderson, 


286 


FOURFOLD, 


coloring with displeasure, it is his annual call. 
Tanzy, say I am indisposed.^^ 

He is an old man, papa, and so gentle and 
learned/^ pleaded Tanzy, he has come in all this 
rain.’^ 

You may see him, then/^ 

He did not ask for me.’^ 

I am not in the mood ! said her father, some- 
what relenting. 

Please, papa,’’ she coaxed. ^H’ll make it one of 
my wishes,” she added, brightening, as the thought 
came to her. And then you will have but one on 
your mind.” 

You witch ! ” he answered, smiling with per- 
mission in his eyes. 

She had gained her point; she ran lightly down- 
stairs to bid the old man welcome. 

O, Mr. Eansom,” she cried with a sharp cry, 
taking both his hands and holding them tightly, and 
thinking only of her father in his bondage, will 
you tell papa how the devil goes out of a man when 
Christ bids him ? ” 


XVIIT, 


IH HIS STRENGTH. 

I can do all things through Christ.’^ 

An hour later Tanzy came to the half open door; 
the minister was standing near the table in the cen- 
tre of the room, talking in a low tone and most 
earnestly ; her father seemed to have forgotten his 
usual fidgetty fashion of sitting on a chair, and was 
looking up into the refined, scholarly face and lis- 
tening with absorbed attention. Stepping in softly, 
she went to her father and stationed herself behind 
him ; he turned to smile and take her hand into his 
own ; she saw that he was pleased with this one of 
her wishes.^^ 

We were speaking of some of the weak con- 
querors, Tanzy, he said, bringing her into the con- 
versation. ‘‘ Mr. Kansom has instanced some that 
I have overlooked. Gambassio, the blind sculptor, 
I had forgotten.’^ 


(287) 


288 


FOURFOLD. 


^^But not Milton^ or Homer, or Ossian or Prescott/^ 
summed up Mr. Eansom, and I remembered that 
Alexander Pope had to be sewed up in rough 
canvas every morning to enable him to stand on his 
feet.^^ 

I have seen a lady, a successful teacher, who 
wears a plaster of Paris jacket to keep herself to- 
gether, said Tanzy, adding out of her own expe- 
rience to the list of the world^s weak conquerors. 

And there is Mrs. Kenderdine.^^ 

Yes,^^ returned Mr. Ransom, I saw her this 
afternoon. She is indeed a conqueror. Do you 
know that the painter Stuart did much of his work 
while unjustly imprisoned for debt ? Bacon was al- 
v/ays ailing, and Hannah More suffered seventy 
fevers in seventy years. To say nothing of Paul, 
whom I never forget, in his painfulness and weari- 
ness.^^ 

And don’t forget my Elizabeth Barrett Brown- 
ing,” said Tanzy, with enthusiasm. 

You called her ungrateful an hour ago,” her 
father remembered, reproaching her. 

And she was so tired when she wrote that,” said 
Tanzy, rebuking herself. I know how bad I was 
this very morning.” 


IN HIS STRENGTH. 


289 


Do you remember this saying of hers/’ asked 
Mr. Eansom, with his gentle smile, 

In my large joy of sight and touch, 

Beyond what others count as such, 

I am content to suffer much.’ ” ? 

And the man who sang the song of the shirt/’ 
said Tanzy, dear Tom Hood was a great sufferer.” 

Do you recall the words his faithful wife, 
Jane, heard him whisper towards the end: ^ 0 Lord, 
say arise, take up thy cross and follow me,’ ” asked 
the minister. 

Ernest Henderson’s eyes filled with large, slow 
tears. His wife loved his eyes with the tears in 
them; Marigold was scornful; Tanzy tried to be 
compassionate. 

That old man whom I shall bury to-morrow, 
whispered to me the hour he died, that he forgave 
as he hoped to be forgiven. He was a pathetic old 
creature. I often beguiled him into my study, and 
he always asked me to read the same psalm to him. 
He had a way of strolling through the churchyard ; 
I often found him there stooping for his pebbles ; 
he admired your grandfather’s monument, and told 
me he wanted one like it. But I think the fascina- 
tion to him was the name : Nicholson reminded him 

of a name connected with his early history; he said 
19 


290 


FOURFOLD, 


it was like it, but not it ; once he told me that name 
was Nichols. Sometimes I think that whole affair 
was a delusion ; but his granddaughter showed me 
yesterday the record in his Bible ; the date in which 
his land was sold ; some time in ^39. More than 
forty years ago.^^ 

The eyes of one of his listeners had grown dry 
and bright. He knew that date : May 17, 1839. 

It does not matter now,’^ he returned carelessly, 
the old man is beyond both pebbles and gold.^^ 
And the girl is making her own way,^^ added 
Mr. Ransom ; she will have her compensation. 
Life is full of thatj Mr. Henderson.^^ 

You spoke of remodelling your little church,^^ 
said Ernest, changing the subject easily ; ‘‘ my 
grandfather did nothing for it when it was building ; 
he told me so. I think he regretted it. AU he did 
as a public-spirited citizen, was to decorate your 
churchyard with that handsome monument to him- 
self and family. Have you funds enough ? 

We have seven dollars towards it,’^ remarked 
the old man, with a humorous twinkle in his deep- 
set eyes. 

‘‘ How much do you want inquired Ernest, with 
abrupt kindliness. 


IN HIS STRENGTH, 


291 


We want five hundred; we hope for three hun- 
dred. We are not a rich church.’^ 

Might he not propitiate the avenging Deity by 
almsgiving? Would not this Power who required 
the souls of rich men, accept a gift for the church 
dedicated to his worship ? Would he still remem- 
ber to be hard upon him about that fourfold ? 

Tanzy marvelled at the flash in her fathers face, 
and his quick change of attitude, 

Tanzy ! My check-book, dear, and pen and 
ink/' 

Tanzy told Marigold that she flew after them. 

I thank you, sir, in the name of my people," 
said the old minister, with stately courtesy. 

To Tanzy he was like her imagination of 
gentleman of the old school." 

I am not giving to your people," was the curt 
reply. I am giving to the One you worship." 

Then I do not know whether he thanks you or 
not," said Mr, Ransom, with a low laugh. I 
trust he accepts it — ^he understands the spirit in 
which the offering is made." 

I wish I did," acknowledged Ernest, frankly. 

Mr. Ransom, I am a weak man, and not a con- 
queror." 


292 


FOURFOLD. 


We are conquerors only through His grace/’ 
said the minister, in his kind, firm voice. 

“ I do not understand that. Was not De Quincey 
a conqueror ? Why did we not speak of him I ” 

‘‘ Poor fellow ! He was a sufferer ! ” 

But he did it. He conquered the stuff.” 

If I may — and not be further tedious — I 
would like to give you my long experience in a few 
words. I was a slave for thirty years.” 

Tanzy flew back with the check- book, and her 
own pen and ink, and placed them on the 
table. 

Papa, may I see ? ” she asked, gayly. Put in 
a hundred for me.” 

‘‘ And a hundred for Marigold,” he said, 
lightly. 

And a hundred for yourself,” she persuaded. 

And a hundred for mamma,” he added, writ- 
ing rapidly the check for four hundred dollars, and 
tearing it off. ‘‘ Now, sir, if you please, Tanzy and 
I would like to hear your long experience in a few 
words. Will you not be seated again ? ” 

Thank you, no. I have another call to make 
in this neighborhood.” 

Folding the check, he placed it in his large 


IN HIS STRENGTH. 


293 


leather wallet and slipped it into the breast-pocket 
of his coat. 

I trust you will come to see the inside of our 
little building some day/’ he said easily. ‘‘ Well/’ 
straightening himself, for thirty years I was a 
slave to the use of tobacco. I seldom smoked, but 
I was an incessant chewer. It was always in my 
mouth ; I considered it indispensable to my exist- 
ence. Time and again, as I realized what a slave I 
had become, I resolved to free myself ; once I lim- 
ited myself to three mouthfuls a day. One time I 
gave it up altogether — for as long as I could stand 
it. If you ever tried you know what has to be gone 
through.” 

“ I never tasted it. I never tasted tobacco, or 
liquor of any kind, except when prescribed by a 
physician.” 

Then you donH\xiow, But you know De Quin- 
cey. I understand him. I never felt it to be a sin ; 
I only felt that I was a slave and not a free man. 
One day I fell into reasoning about it and decided, 
then, and as I thought, for all my life-time, never to 
try again to give it up. I could not, and I would 
not try and fail. The next day I purchased a pound 
of the best and put it in a box near the head of my 


294 


FOURFOLD. 


bed. A week later, I awoke one morning early to 
think out a sermon, but before I began to think, I 
stretched out my hand for my sweet morning po- 
tion. My first thought was God. My second thought 
was tobacco. But my hand was stopped. I could 
not reach it. A pressure I could not withstand was 
upon me. I was made willing to give it up, at once, 
and forever, I knew that my strength was perfect 
weakness. I knew I must, and that I could not. 
Under the pressure upon me which I had no de- 
sire to resist, I cried out, ‘ God helping mej I wilV 
^^From that moment I have had no desire for it. 
That was fifteen years ago. For awhile I carried 
it about as usual, in my pocket, and would take it 
out and smell of it for the sake of the test ; but I 
never had the slightest desire to touch it with my 
tongue. 

I did not suffer for one instant; I have not suf- 
fered one instant for the fifteen years. Thank you 
for your patience. Good afternoon, sir.^’ 

Ernest Henderson arose and took the old minis- 
ter's hand, with a sigh for himself that his boyhood 
had had no father like this strong man. 

I do not understand you, but I honor you.’^ 

‘‘ Christ bid the appetite go, and it went. You 


IN ms STRENGTH, 


295 


know he understands how to cast out devils.^’ 

I wish I did know it. Perhaps I shall see your 
church when I return ; I am going away for an 
endless time. I want to take my girls to Egypt, 
and perhaps I shall take this girl to J erusalem.^^ 

0 papa ! cried delighted Tanzy, now you 
make me willing to go.^^ 

Accompanying Mr. Ransom to the door, Tanzy 
stood with him on the piazza to ask a few questions 
about Lucinda. As she watched him under his 
umbrella, making his way through the rain, she 
heard her name called from within, hurriedly and 
excitedly. 

0 Miss Tanzy ! Nurse has had a fall. She 
slipped on the steps. They were slippery with 
rain! She hadn^t ought to go out; but she did. 
She wanted to get some tender lettuce for you in 
the garden.’’ 

Is she hurt much ? ” asked Tanzy quietly, 
stepping into the hall. 

Dreadfully ! She fainted ; and we got harts- 
horn and brought her to. We got her up to her 
bed ; but she’s fainted again. Cook says it’s the 
spine of her back ; and she’s so old ! She’ll never 
take another step 1 ” wailed the girl. 


296 


FOURFOLD. 


Be quiet, Mary Ann, You will disturb mamma. 
Go across the street for Dr. Kenderdine, and I will 
attend to Nurse.’^ 

Nurse threw up her arms with a moan when 
Tanzy entered her room. 

Oh ! My lamb ! I am done for this time.’’ 

Not yet,” said Tanzy, soothingly. We cam 
not do without you. Dr. Kenderdine will be here in 
five minutes, and tell us there is nothing the matter.” 

It was ten minutes before Dr. Kenderdine came, 
and then he did not say there was nothing the 
matter. He told Nurse her case was serious 
enough for her to keep quiet and be obedient. 

You must have a nurse,” he said, urgently, to 
Tanzy. You two girls cannot do it. She may 
be helpless a long time. She is an old woman and 
not strong.” 

Lucinda is coming,” replied Tanzy, and 
then we shall be three girls. Nurse has been good 
to us all our lives. I would not go to Jerusalem 
now and leave her to suffer. Make it as light as 
you can, conscientiously, to mamma. And come as 
often as you think best, twice a day if she needs 
you. Send for me always, please, and I will take 
your orders and see that they are obeyed.” 


XIX. 


A PUEPOSE. 

“ Be sure your work is better than what you work to get.” 

“ What troubles me most,” remarked Tanzy to 
Mrs. Kenderdine, ten days after Nurse’s fall, “ is 
that we are going about the world for pleasure, and 
Fm all a-tingle to find work.” 

Work is an educator,” Mark replied. 

They were all in the honeysuckle end of the 
piazza; Mrs. Kenderdine in her hammock, wrapped 
in something of a fleecy whiteness ; Margaret not 
far away ; Marigold and Tanzy with books in their 
laps, and Mark moving about and interjecting wise 
and merry sentences into the rapid flow of girlish 
talk. 

“ Let me read you half a page,” said Mrs. Ken- 
derdine, bringing a foreign-looking letter out of the 
fleecy white folds ; my husband writes hurried- 
ly. He is so oppressed with what you are a-tingle 

(297) 


298 


FOURFOLD. 


for. This is in reply to twenty pounds Margaret 
has been gathering among our friends for our Girls^ 
School. There is where her heart is, you know : 
‘ Your school is going to be examined for Govern- 
ment grant next month. How much will be re- 
ceived I cannot tell. Every girl who passes a 
standard is entitled to from three to fifteen rupees, 
or rather we get it for her passing.^ He is thus 
explicit in answer to questions that Margaret must 
answer to her friends, the reader explained : ^ The 
balance of expenses your twenty pounds will pay 

for. I went to week before last. The 

school is in new quarters — a fine, large building — 
and there are about one hundred and twenty girls 
being taught. A few have fallen off, as we charge 
small fees — from one-half anna to four annas a 
month. Salome, the female Bible teacher, has a 
little girl, and has leave of absence for a couple of 
months. Her husband, however, teaches for her, 
and an old Brahman has been teaching our cate- 
chism. He seemed very proud when I compliment- 
ed his classes concerning their recitations on the 
^ only true God and Jesus Christ whom he has 
sent.^ I hope good will come to him as well as to 
the girls.^ 


A PURPOSE. 


299 


A heathen teaching thaty^^ exclaimed Tanzy. 
How very queer to make a missionary out of 
himP 

^ I am just about to take another GirFs School in 

One of our Christian women is already 

teaching sewing in it. How I have been going this 
last month ! I have travelled about two hundred 
mdes by jutka in two weeks. Day before yester- 
day I did thirty-five miles. I have given a prepa- 
ratory lecture this morning ; received one of our old 
boys who is studying here in the High School to the 
full membership of the church. Two days the ther- 
mometer has registered 102° on my study table. 
The thought of you in your hammock in green 
coolness, rests my soul. 

^ I mean to stay here a couple of days after Sun- 
day, to rest, as you know it is absolutely impossi- 
ble to rest in one of my own stations. Agnes is 
getting to be quite a tennis player.^ 

But that last is not about work,^^ added Mrs. 
Kenderdine, slipping the many-times-read sheets 
into their thin envelope. That is one kind of work, 
Tanzy, and the kind I have been more than a quar- 
ter of a century interested in.^^ 

^^May I send that letter — or a part of it, to 


300 


FOURFOLD, 


Bess ? inquired Mark. She is looking for a field 
for some of her stray ducats.^^ 

O yes/^ consented Margaret, eagerly. I’ll 
put her on the list of my next twenty pounds.” 

And me, Margaret,” cried Tanzy, thinking how 
she would love to help the Hindoo girls learn about 
Jesus Christ whom he has sent.” 

Marigold did not speak ; she was thinking that 
she would like to know more about what the girls 
were taught. She was not yet all a-tingle for work. 

The watchword to his soldiers on his death-bed 
by the Emperor Severus, was Laboremus^'^ narrated 
Mark, who still had an air of school-boy learning. 
When I was a boy I had it put on a watch charm.” 
You are lazy enough now,” retorted Margaret, 
good-humoredly, who half believed that he origi- 
nated his stories to suit the occasion. 

Now you remind me of another story,” he said, 
laughing, and I will tell it to punish you ! Some- 
body asked a foreigner who had travelled every- 
where, what universal characteristic he found, and 
he answered : ^ Me tink dat all men love lazy.’ ” 
Not Yankees,” Marigold said, quickly. I 
believe every other nation does.” 

^^The Hindoos regard inaction as the perfect 


A PURPOSE. 


301 


state,” said Mrs, Kenderdine; “think of speaking 
of the Supreme Being as The Unmovable.” 

“ When St. Boniface landed in Britain,” Mark went 
on in his school-boy tone, “ he brought the gospel 
and a carpenter’s rule.” 

Tanzy remembered who had used a carpenter’s 
rule. 

“ I wish Cinda were here,” she exclaimed aloud, 
“she glories in hard work. She laughed when I asked 
her to-day if I were planning too much for her; and 
when I told papa, he gave me a Greek adage : ‘ In 
the morning of life, work; in the midday, give 
counsel; in the evening, pray.’” 

“ Charles Lamb said that no work was worse 
than over-work,” said Marigold, who loved Charles 
Lamb as enthusiastically as her sister loved Mrs. 
Browning. “ He said that after he had been two 
years free from the India Office. At first he thought 
he would not go back to his prison and stay ten 
years for ten thousand pounds ! He seemed to have 
nothing to do but wall. < What I can do, and over- 
do, is to walk.’ I think Tan and I have learned 
that no work is to have a sorry time. We began to 
have a sorry time this summer.” 

My sorry time is over,” was Tan’s energetic 


302 


FOURFOLD. 


answer. am learning the dressmaker^s trade 

from Cinda. I might be sewing-teacher in your 
school; Margaret. I’m too ignorant to teach any- 
thing else ; I couldn’t even teach the catechism like 
a Brahman.” 

I’ll take you back with us/’ planned Margaret, 
who often spoke hopefully of her mother’s return 
to their work. 

No,” replied Tanzy, very seriously. I do not 
know what I am ready for ; but I’m sure it isn’t 
that.” 

Be a lovely and wise society woman, and re- 
form that sad thing, society,” suggested Margaret. 

That is Bess Hartwell’s ideal,” said Mark ; ^^and 
she will make something out of it, too.” 

I wish I knew her better,” Marigold chimed in. 

I believe I would be satisfied to be ‘ lovely and 
wise ’ in society. But it would take all one’s time.” 

If it is worth it, why not I ” asked Margaret. 

I heard two ladies in conversation in a hotel par- 
lor ; one was a governor’s or a senator’s wife, and 
the other was saying to her with an impressive up- 
lifted finger : ^ If you take this position as secretary 
you must give up all your time, all society and 
travel and everything you delight in.’ And I 


A PURPOSE. 


303 


thought, ^Why not, if the work is worth it?^^^ 

Agnes plays tennis, Mark threw in mis- 
chievously. 

We must be re-created,^^ said Marigold, whose 
eyes were heavy after a sleepless night, with anxiety 
concerning her father. 

Sleep, advised Mark, with a professional expres- 
sion. 

And we must have a good time,^^ Tanzy ad- 
mitted frankly. ‘‘ Tm bent on a good time, like 
the wife of John Gilpin.^^ 

Wellington was a great worker,^^ said Marigold; 
he is one of papa^s heroes. You would be amused 
at papa’s heroes. They are all great workers. He 
says it takes all his time to admire them.” 

Think of Wellington telling his army in Spain 
how to cook their provisions,” said Mrs. Kender- 
dine, admiringly. 

That is the kind of genius I am aiming at,” 
laughed Tanzy, but I never get above the trivial 
details.” 

You are not like Don Quixote,” replied Mari- 
gold, he said he could have made beautiful tooth 
picks and bird cages, if his mind had not been so 
filled with plans of chivalry,” 


304 


FOURFOLD. 


would not have appreciated Wellington^ 
then/^ said Margaret. 

Now I must give you a quotation/^ broke in 
Mrs. Kenderdine’s rested voice : ^ Daily use is not 
the jeweller^s mercurial polish^ but it will keep your 
little silver pencil from tarnishing.’ ” 

But Gold wants to shine — in society/’ said Mar- 
garetj teazingly, ^^not to tarnish isn’t bright enough 
for her.” 

The light that shines farthest, shines brightest 
nearest home,” quoted Mark. 

Gold does shine at home,” said Tanzy, loyally, 
mamma couldn’t live without her. Oh, Mrs. Ken- 
derdine,” in a changed tone, I was reading to 
papa to-day about Sir Thomas More’s daughter, 
Margaret; he was very much moved. I kaven’t 
been a good daughter lately — papa and I have been 
growing apart — I know it, and he feels it. It is so 
hard, and I do not understand it, or know how to 
hinder it. I must grow, and I can’t seem to help 
growing apart and away from him.” 

For an instant her eyes were blurred ; then she 
continued in her rapid tones: His wife was shrewd 
and worldly wise, and couldn’t understand that he 
had any reason for being imprisoned, and told him 


A PURPOSE, 


305 


that he played the fool ; but Margaret encouraged 
him to stand firm and hold on; his pen and ink 
were taken from him, and he wrote to her with a 
piece of coal, telling her that a peck of coals would 
not make pens enough to tell her how he loved her 
letters. After his head had been stuck up on 
London Bridge, she asked to have it, and desired 
that it might be buried with her ; and when her 
tomb was opened, it was found lying on the dust of 
what had been her bosom.’^ 

Answering tears were in Marigold^s eyes. Mrs. 
Kenderdine brushed her eyes ; Margaret spoke im- 
pulsively, not knowing what she said or what she 
meant. Mark turned away and went down the 
path to the gate. Those girls at Daisy Fields did 
have something to make women of them ! Not 
Margaret, and not Bess had anything like 
this. 

I am more proud of my father than of anything 
in this whole world,” exclaimed Margaret. 

I used to be,” acknowledged Tanzy, and I 
hate myself because I am outgrowing it. I think 
it must be the happiest way to stay little and be- 
lieve your father to be the best and wisest man in 

the world.” 

20 


306 


FOURFOLD, 


I didn^t stay little/^ said Margaret, proudly, and 
then she was ashamed of herself. 

Your father is very handsome and well educa- 
ted,^^ she hastened to say, and he is wrapped up 
in you two girls.’^ 

That’s the pity of it,” confessed frank Tanzy. 
I am humiliated because I am not wrapped up in 
him. It hurts to grow.” 

Do not misunderstand Tan,” explained Marigold, 
she loves papa as well as ever, but she doesn’t 
make a hero of him.” Marigold’s eyes widened and 
slowly fiUed. Tan’s hero was like Sir Thomas More. 

I understand,” replied Mrs. Kenderdine, with 
a sympathy that Tanzy felt; ^^love that is more 
true will take its place ; children grow up to un- 
derstand their fathers and mothers. Nothing is 
more precious to a father or mother, than the love 
of a grown up son or daughter.” 

Margaret’s eyes met her mother’s in fullest un- 
derstanding. 

I’m growing to understand mamma,” hesitated 
Marigold, we are growing together instead of 
apart. She lives a kind of hushed life. If some- 
thing were lifted, I think she would burst and grow 
like a bud.” 


A PURPOSE. 


307 


Is she aware of it ? asked Mrs. Kenderdine. 

Almost/^ said Marigold ; she said this morn- 
ing, ^ I do not like to think that my girls will always 
live such an inside life.’ I think she makes herself 
keep at that fancy work.” 

I have thought so — lately,” assented Tanzy. 

Even out-spoken Tanzy could not say to Mrs. 
Kenderdine and Margaret what she had told Gold ; 
that opening the door of her mother’s chamber with- 
out tapping, thinking no one was there, she had 
found her in tears — and upon her knees. 

Mrs. Kenderdine, you must know mamma,” said 
Marigold j she would come over-^she likes to have 
us tell her about you, but papa cannot spare her. He 
is very much depressed, and keeps her near him. 
He says he misses her in his sleep, if she is not in 
the room.” 

Did her husband ever miss her like that ? I am 
with you alway,” — he had that promise. They both 
had more than his promises ; they had Christ him- 
self. We will come unto him and make our abode 
with him.” 

That word of the Promise-keeper was her com- 
fort to-day. 

For an instant Marigold thought a sudden light 


308 


FOURFOLD. 


had burst through the honeysuckle shade and shone 
upon her face. 

On the way home Marigold said : Mrs. Kender- 
dine reminds me of the saying : Heroism is pa- 
tience one moment longer.’^ 

It is something more than patience.’^ 

What could be more ? 

I do not know — it is too far beyond me. Her 
renunciation is too wonderful for me.’^ 

Tauj I do believe I would like to be a society 
woman/^ cried Marigold, in sudden ecstacy. 

Like Madame de Recamier ? 

But Gold would not answer ; it was humiliating 
to confess that she loved admiration. Tanzy had 
decided to become a working woman. She would 
rather be like Lucinda Mayhew than Madame de 
Recamier. It was such a comical distinction that 
she laughed and told it to Marigold. 

Tan, I think you must be some common child 
in disguise,’^ returned Marigold in great displeasure. 

You have very common tastes.’^ 

Tanzy^s merry laugh in reply floated across the 
summer air and got tangled in among the honey- 
suckles. Mrs. Kenderdine’s eyes brightened at the 


A PURPOSE. 


309 


light-hearted sound. She was always glad of 
Tanzy^s laugh. 

She has left her book ! exclaimed Margaret, 
picking up a small volume. Idl send Mark over 
with it.^’ 

Well/^ assented her mother, with a hesitation 
that puzzled Margaret, and which Mrs. Kenderdine 
was not ready to explain. 

She had learned that Mark never made a change 
of position of which this frank, impulsive, affection- 
ate girl was not watchful ; that he never spoke one 
word that escaped her, that her eyes sought his, or 
turned away with a sweet, shy, glad look, as pretty 
and innocent as a child^s. Most certainly if she 
loved him she had not told it to herself 

And Mark ? There was nothing to complain of 
in his easy, half-familiar manner. He had too 
little self-confidence to guess her secret. Did he 
not hold himself still as belonging to her whom only 
yesterday he spoke of, Susie, my almost wife.^^ 

If it were Margaret, what could she do ? 

What could she say to another mother^s daugh- 
ter ? Would it be wise to speak to Mark % 

But might she not be hindering God^s plan for 
these two whom he was not forgetting ? 


310 


FOURFOLD, 


What is the book ? she asked, in her usual 
interested tone. 

^ The Crown of Wild Olives/ Markus copy. 
He lent it to her.’’ 

Those two find a great deal to say about what 
they find in books,” Mrs. Kenderdine continued. 

And out of books,” said Margaret. 

Mrs. Kenderdine was not sure that Margaret was 
pleased ; Tanzy, in some measure, was taking her 
place with him. He had read this book to Margaret 
and herself, and now he would take it to Tanzy and 
Marigold. Margaret’s eyes were on the book ; 
the tone baffled even her mother ; Margaret and 
Mark had been so much to each other. Was that 
wise ? 

He often spoke of Tanzy, but it was oftener of 
the girls,” or of Tanzy and Marigold.” 

He said he was studying Marigold; he knew 
Tanzy without study. 

The book was taken over that afternoon, and sev- 
eral pages were read aloud to the girls ; the girls 
this time including Lucinda. 

The paragraphs that Tanzy liked best were upon 
work. Marigold said she had gone daft about work 
‘‘ What is wise work and what is foolish work ? 


A PURPOSE. 


311 


Mark read, What is the dijfference between sense 
and nonsense in daily occupation ? 

W ell, wise work is, briefly, work with God. 

Foolish work is work against God. And work 
done with God, which He will help, may be briefly 
described as Putting in Order — that is enforcing 
God^s law of order, spiritual and material, over men 
and things. The first thing you have to do, essen- 
tially, the real ^ good work ^ is, with respect to 
men, to enforce justice, and with respect to things, 
to enforce tidiness and fruitfulness.’' 

Oh, I like that,” exclaimed Tanzy, in warm 
admiration, ‘‘if I only knew how ! I love justice 
as well as I love bread and butter. That is one 
reason I love you, Cinda ; I must do for you what 
some one else has not done.” 

You have done it,” said Lucinda, gratefully. 

Her fingers were busy with some pale pink work 
for Mrs. Henderson 5 Marigold was playing with the 
edges of a book, Tanzy was smoothing her kitten's 
soft fur. 

Observe then,” read Mark, “ all wise work is 
mainly threefold in character. It is honest, useful, 
cheerful.” 

Honest, useful, cheerful. The face bent 


over 


312 


FOURFOLD. 


Lucinda^s work brightened and brightened. At last 
her life was that, and all that ; and Tanzy had 
brought her to it. She loved work, honest, useful, 
cheerful work ; she would not care to sit puUing at 
the edges of a book or playing with a kitten ; she 
could not think cheerful thoughts unless her hands 
were busy. 

In a moment, as her interest deepened, her work 
dropped from her hands ; Marigold^s fingers ceased 
their busy idleness, Tanzy forgot her kitten ; they 
all listened breathlessly. 

^^Wise work is cheerful, as a child’s work is. 
And now I want you to take one thought home with 
you and let it stay with you. 

Everybody in this room has been taught to pray 
daily. Thy kingdom come. Now, if we hear a man 
swear in the streets, we think it very wrong, and 
say he takes God’s name in vain. But there’s a 
twenty times worse way of taking his name in vain 
than that. It is to aslz God for what we donH want. 
He doesn’t like that sort of prayer. If you don’t 
want a thing, don’t ask for it ; such asking is the 
worst mockery of your King you can mock him 
with ; the soldier’s striking him on the head with 
the reed was nothing to that. If you do not wish 


A PURPOSE. 


313 


for his kingdom, don’t pray for it. But if you do, 
you must do more than pray for it ; you must work 
for it. And to work for it you must know what it 
is ; we have all prayed for it many a day without 
thinking. Observe, it is a kingdom that is to come 
to us 5 we are not to go to it. Also it is not to be a 
kingdom of the dead, but of the living. Also it is 
not to come all at once, but quietly ; nobody knows 
how. ‘ The kingdom of God cometh not with obser- 
vation.’ Also it is not to come outside of us, but in 
the hearts of us : the kingdom of God is within you. 
And being within us, it is not a thing to be seen, 
but to be felt ; and though it brings all substance 
of good with it, it does not consist in that 5 ^ the 
kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but right- 
eousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; ’ joy, 
that is to say, in the holy, healthful, and helpful 
Spirit.” 

This book was Susie Hartwell’s copy ; her name 
in her own handwriting was on the fly leaf, and her 
pencillings were all the way through. 

We will work for his kingdom together,” she 
said to Mark, the day they read it together. 

And now alone it was often hard for him to be a 
cheerful worker. W^ould Susie be glad he had 


314 


FOURFOLD. 


wondered that day, if he had some cheerful, busy 
little worker to work with him ? 

As he paused, Tanzy took the book from his hand. 

I must go on.’^ 

Then go on aloud,^’ said Marigold. Beading 
with her sister in the Gospels had prepared her for 
some understanding of Kuskin^s words. 

She was beginning to care that this kingdom 
should come ; she was not quite ready to pray for 
it, and still less ready to work for it. She had not 
learned that her love for her mother might be a part 
ot it. 

Lucinda rejoiced in believing that the kingdom 
had come within herself, and that she was at work. 

Tanzy did not go on aloud ; Marigold went away, 
and MrSc Henderson from the window called Lucin- 
da. She was always calling Lucinda. 

don’t know how,” said Tanzy, lifting her 

eyes. 

Doesn’t he tell you how ? ” questioned Mark. 

He bids us be like children and enter into the 
kingdom ; the child’s characteristics are Humility, 
Faith, Charity, Cheerfulness. That is what to 
not what to do.” 

Mark smiled at her perplexity. 


A PURPOSE, 


315 


To be — that is enough for one while. That is 
the preparation for good work. I have little of the 
first^ sincerely desire the second, and am wofully 
wanting in the third, and am so far from the fourth 
that I am half desperate with the blues when I get 
thinking.^^ 

‘‘ I thought of you when I read it. I thought you 
had all of them,’’ she said, as simply as she would 
have said the same to Margaret. 

Then you do not know me,” flushing with an 
uncomfortable feeling. 

^‘Oh, I can read people,” was the self-confident 
reply. 

Read them wrong. I am not half of what you 
think me. I am a very poor sort of a fellow, in- 
deed.” 

I said you had humility,” answered Tanzy, with 
a triumphant little laugh. 

Now what are you going to do about it ? ” 

Your humility ? ” she asked, saucily. 

Your work,” he returned, seriously. 

Begin to be humble first,” she said, with un- 
feigned humility. 

With the flush and the earnestness she looked so 
young, so unspoiled, that he was tempted to tell her 


316 


FOURFOLD. 


not to begin by looking in her mirror ; but he had 
not yet paid her one compliment, or talked any so- 
ciety nonsense to her ; she was too womanly, and 
he had too real an admiration of her simplicity, 
truth and frankness. She was as unspoiled as Mar- 
garet. 

Will you sing for me ? he asked, instead. 

When Gold comes ; we have been learning a 
new song.^^ 

Your life seems to be a new song now-a-days.^’ 
The nights when she and Gold were alone and 
talked, would he call that a part of her life’s new 
song? While the girls were at the piano, Tanzy 
looked up to smile to Mr. Fiske on the threshold. A 
telegram brought him yesterday, and he had accept- 
ed her mother’s invitation to stay a week at Daisy 
Fields. 

I do believe there’s a great deal in him,” she 
had said to her father, and I thought he was only 
a dry old stick of a lawyer.” 

At thirty-five one is not such a very dry old 
stick,” he replied ; but twenty-one must put on 
airs.” 

Oh the morning of his arrival, he was left to Lucin- 
da. A wajk, a game of chess, and a long talk fin- 


A PURPOSE. 


317 


ished the evening ; at half-past eleven j she told the 
girls he was not so very uninteresting ; ” he had 
told her she had a talent for chess, and answered all 
her questions about the Dutch Reformation. 

Tanzy was surprised that he knew anything about 
any Reformation, and supposed that old wills were 
his only literature ; she had never thought of him as 
having a father or mother, or having freshness 
enough to fall in love with anybody. He is so 
withered^ you know,” she exclaimed to Lucinda. 

Lucinda laughed and admitted that his hair, eyes, 
teeth and complexion were all about the same shade 
of buff ; but that when he talked his eyes changed 
to a deep shade of blue, and he was not always sar- 
castic, and she was sure some things in life did 
make a difference to him. His mother has been 
in a wheel chair twenty years,” she told them, ^^and 
he never had a sister, and his father died ten years 
ago — so he hasn’t much of anybody or anything.” 

Tanzy thought he looked so, and Marigold decided 
that he must have dyspepsia, and that was some- 
thing. 

Tanzy looked up to smile at him because he had 
never had a sister, and his mother had been in a 
wheel chair twenty years. 


318 


FOURFOLD. 


Come and sing/’ invited Marigold, and then 
they found that his voice was something worth hear- 
ing, and Marigold would not let him leave the piano 
until they had tried all their new music with him. 

^^I’m glad you have music,” said Tanzy, with 
^ rather too much compassion in her eyes and manner. 

I thought all you had was work.” 

I have never had anything else all my life,” he 
returned; his voice as gentle as though he did not 
know^ how to be sarcastic ; and I hope I never 
shall have anything else. This is the first real vaca- 
tion I have had for fifteen years, and I was up at 
five reading hard this morning.” 

What is it all for ? ” asked Tanzy, curiously. 

He smiled, and she forgot that his moustache was 
the color of Cook’s old Scotch terrier, for his eyes, 
imder eyebrows of the same suggestive shade and 
shagginess, were large, blue and sympathetic. 

Because I love it, and I love nothing else ; like 
Anthony Trollope, I hope I shall die the day I can- 
not work.” 

You shall not work to-day,” laughed Marigold, 
saucily. Tan and I will take you to the old mill.’^ 

Miss Mayhew told me about it ; it is the only 
ruin she has ever seen.” 


A PURPOSE. 


319 


Then Miss Mayhew shall go, too,” promised 
Miss Mayhew^s mistress. But we know all the 
drives about Mansfield better than she does ; like 
you, she has worked, and done nothing else all her 
life.” 

^^Kichter^s unfinished work was laid up in his 
coffin,”. replied Mr. Fiske, thinking of the odds and 
ends of his own unfinished work. 

“ One coffin wouldn^t hold mine,” was Tanzy’s 
serious reply. ‘‘ Cinda has found a dozen pieces of 
work to finish for me.” 

‘‘ Can any one else do your work ? ” questioned 
Mr. Fiske, so sternly, that Marigold was glad to 
escape from him, under pretense of searching among 
her mother’s silks for a peculiar shade of green. 

Oh, I haven’t found my work,” said Tanzy, not 
at all moved. I’m willing to spend half a lifetime 
in finding it, if it is only satisfactory at the end.” 

‘‘ A lifetime is short working time, so many years 
for preparation, all one’s best strength for that, and 
old age at the other end — one’s prime is brief 
enough.” 

You are thinking only of the worlCj^ Tanzy said. 

What should I think of?” 

‘‘ I am reading a Life — it lasted only thirty-three 


820 


FOURFOLD. 


years — everything in it was finished — why cannot 
we be like that ? 

Because we are not like Him/’ was the quick 
answer. 

Can we not give one thing Christ’s finish ? ” 
asked Mark, who had been an interested listener. 

What is that ? ” Tanzy asked, turning to him 
with a feeling of relief. 

His Father’s will.” 

Mark repeated this scrap of conversation to Mar- 
garet, who, unlike Tanzy, had a way of finishing 
everything she touched. 

He will stir those girls up, even if he is such a 
piece of parchment,” replied Margaret. Tanzy said 
yesterday he was like pickled tripe.” 

That is how she understands people,” said Mark, 
somewhat sharply ; he is as tender-hearted as a 
woman.” 

Isn’t pickled tripe supposed to be tender % ” re- 
torted Margaret. 


XX. 


HEREDITY. 

“^Tis but beating one^s wings against the invisible to seek 
to know even to-morrow.’^ 

The next morning, on the piazza, the talk fell 
upon wills ; Mr. Fiske told of several queer wills he 
had happened to read about ; Tanzy and her father 
brought their books nearer and listened ; Mrs. Hen- 
derson had left her princess and brought some white 
knitting out among them ; the stiff, unsocial lawyer 
was one of her favorites. 

The girls said he was in love with mamma ; with 
her he forgot his awkwardness, and his eyes kept 
their softness and their pretty color. 

I do not like to think about inheritances,’’ re- 
marked Mrs. Henderson, in a voice that sounded as 
though it liked everything else. 

Why not, mamma ? ” asked Gold, who believed 
that her mother had a reason for every opinion. 

Because I am afraid of them.” 


21 


( 321 ) 


322 


FOURFOLD. 


You have no reason/’ said her husband. No 
wrong ever came to yoU; and I am certain you can 
never transmit any.” 

I do not wish my girls to be like me/’ was the 
reply, with a look at Marigold, whose pretty, use- 
less fingers were idle in her white lap. 

^^Oh, Marigold’s father exclaimed, in a tone 

of disgust. That’s nonsense.” 

“ Heredity is a big thing,” said the lawyer, whose 
latest reading had been Joseph Cook’s volume upon 
the subject. 

You were speaking of wills,” interrupted Tan- 
zy’s father, shutting her book with the hand he had 
been caressing her kitten ; the wills of men are as 
queer as their ways. It is a barbarous outrage for 
a dying man to bind the soul of the living.” 

But you would not object to this,” said Mr. 
Fiske, with a twinkle under his Scotch terrier eye- 
brows. A man who died in London in 1828, be- 
queathed to his monkey, his dear and amusing 
Jocko, the sum of $10,000 per annum, to be em- 
ployed for his sole use and benefit ; to his faithful 
dog Shock, and well-beloved cat Tip, a pension of 
£5, and on the death of either of the three, the lapsed 
pension was to pass to the other two and to be equally 


HEREDITY. 


323 


divided between them. That man bound no living 
soul.’^ 

‘‘ It was a good thing. He might have done 
worse. That ten thousand pounds was no blessing 
to Jocko the monkey, and no curse to Jack, the 
man.^’ 

^^But oh, papa,^^ pleaded Marigold. 

I know what I am talking about, and you do 
not,” her father answered, roughly; the girl Lucin- 
da has as fair a chance of happiness in this world 
as either of you.” 

^^She has a happy disposition,” observed Mr. 
Fiske. 

know I haven^t,” Tanzy acknowledged. Cin- 
da is helping me to find new things to be glad of. 
It^s queer, too.” 

Very queer,” was Mr. Fiske^s dry answer, who 
had found his way this morning to the sewing-room 
with a button of his linen duster in his hand, and 
then stayed and found a few other things ; he was 
not shy, or awkward, or sharp with Miss Mayhew, 
the sewing girl and lady’s maid at Daisy Fields. 

She had no more a society manner than he ; the 
two felt thrown together ; both were paid for their 
services at Daisy Fields. Learning from her lips 


324 


FOURFOLD, 


the story of her grandfather^s life and death, he had 
asked permission to visit the old house in the woods ; 
he sat talking with her, with her treasure, her grand- 
father’s Bible, on his knees. 

^^But I’m in earnest about inheritances,” said 
Mrs. Henderson. 

Oh, don’t, mamma,” laughed Marigold, don’t 
be in earnest this breathless morning. I promise 
not to inherit.” 

^ If children, then heirs,’ ” repeated Tanzy, 
wondering where she had read the words. 

Of course, in law,” exclaimed her father, with 
what seemed uncalled for sharpness. 

Doesn’t it mean tastes, or propensities ? ” per- 
sisted Tanzy, mercilessly. 

Or opportunities,’’ added Mr. Fiske. A friend 
of mine seems to have inherited his father’s medical 
practice ; he is a young fellow, but he has already a 
large income.” 

That is what I mean,” said Tanzy in her grave 
young voice ; I would like to do in Mansfield what 
my great-grandfather had opportunity to do and did 
not do : that is,” with a laughing appeal in her eyes, 
unless papa anticipates me.” 

When we come back,” said her father^ I shall 


HEREDITY, 


325 


be growing old^ and improvements in Mansfield may 
amuse me.” 

That isn’t all, papa,” Tanzy urged, that is 
only one thing.” 

Tan is full of ideas,” said Marigold. She is 
brimming over and stuffed full of inherited oppor- 
tunities.” 

That isn’t all, either,” said Tanzy, more gravely 
still. I was frightened when Mr. Eansom read in 
church Daniel’s prayer for the sins of his fathers. 
I never heard anything so beautiful. I read it over 
and over to Cinda until we both learned it.” 

That is what comes of your church-going,” her 
father rebuked, in a voice growing daily more harsh. 

I am impatient every hour to get away from Daisy 
Fields. It will be the ruin of you.” 

He sprang up, giving his chair a push, and walked 
into the house. 

How could he but feel that something at Daisy 
Fields was the ruin ” of her, when an intangible 
something had arisen between them ? The old con- 
fidence was fast going ; often at night she shrank 
from her childhood’s fashion of the good-night kiss, 
and threw a laughing kiss from her finger-tips, as 
she left the room. 


326 


FOURFOLD, 


She dreaded his perfumed breath, she hated the soft 
luxurious laugh, the lolling manner, the lotus-eating 
smile — and, oh, how musical she used to think Ten- 
nyson^s Lotus Eaters was ! When she had grown 
braver, and more accustomed to it, she would feel 
differently ; she might be scornful then, and not 
quite so indignant and ashamed. 

As he went into the house, she wondered if Mr. 
Fiske^s keen, half-shut eyes had discovered her 
father’s secret and her humiliation and disgrace; 
every word she spoke, every word she did not speak, 
seemed to bring a flash of light that revealed the 
shame of Daisy Fields. 

After a moment, making some trivial excuse, she 
picked up her kitten and went across the street to 
Mrs. Kenderdine. 

By-and-by she could not go to Mrs. Kenderdine 
nor to any one when she was comfortless ; Marigold 
and mamma seemed every day to be drawn nearer 
and nearer together, but she was not drawn nearer 
to any one ; all the world away from Daisy Fields 
was so big, and wide, and empty, and cold. 

When she said all this to Mark Kenderdine, he 
looked surprised and bade her go to work to get rid 
of her melancholy.” 


HEREDITY. 


327 


As if it were melancholy ! 

But how could he know what her father had been 
to her, and what had come between them? 

This was a good summer, but, oh, how she wished 
that it didn^t have to be so hard ! 


XXI. 


m THE SEWING-BOOM. 

Which is the way to the sweetness of frankincense ? By 
the myrrh of bitterness.” 

There was a tap at the sewing-room door ; a tap 
that the girl sewing on the white richly embroidered 
wrapper, had learned to know — and to expect. He 
was going away this afternoon. He had never be- 
fore been invited to visit at Daisy Fields, and with 
the prospect of the five years abroad, he might never 
be invited again ; and if he were, she might not be 
there ; and why should he care whether she were 
there or not ? 

Come,’^ in a hesitating, nervous voice. 

She was stooping to gather up her work, when he 
obeyed ; for a moment she was too busied to speak. 

I hate going back to the world again.’^ 

Do you have to ? she inquired. 

I must work for my bread and butter, and for 

my mothers, which is much more to the purpose.’^ 
328 


IN THE SEWING-ROOM. 


329 


That makes it taste good/^ she answered, smil- 
ing. 

It tastes good enough.’^ 

Then why do you quarrel with it? 

I am not quarrelling with it ; I am quarrelling 
with the world. 

I thought lawyers were made to set things 

right.^^ 

Other peoples’ ; not their own.” 

I never knew a lawyer before.” 

I question if you know one now.” 

Aren’t you a lawyer ? ” she asked, innocently. 

He smiled and would have patted her on the head 
had she been his dog ; he sat down, making himself 
room among piles of work, and took up a news- 
paper. 

The paper was one of the county papers. After a 
glance he threw it down. 

There is a letter from Mansfield in it, with our 
village news ; but of course you don’t care.” 

Village gossip, you mean.” 

You like the world’s gossip, I suppose.” 

London and New York papers satisfy me. Who 
writes the Mansfield gossip ? ” 

A young man, the owner of that farm near the 


330 


FOURFOLD, 


old mill ; we stopped there for water that day.’^ 

A handsome young fellow ; do you know him 
I did once/^ 

Why not now ? 

Because — I don’t know. Things have hap- 
pened.” 

What things ? ” 

Do you ask questions because you are a law- 
yer I ” 

I ask because I want to know.” 

I do not know — all of them. We were friends 
when we were in school — boys and girls outgrow 
school friendships.” 

In the country % I thought they always married 
each other.” 

I suppose they do, when there’s no one 
else.” 

In this case there is some one else.” 

Yes,” she answered, confused; but not with the 
self-consciousness that she would have felt one month 
ago. 

Who is it % ” 

I think you are a lawyer ! Are lawyers ever 
impertinent ? ” 

No,” he said, soberly. 


IN THE SEWING-ROOM. 


331 


She is Miss Lynn’s niece, Maria ; you saw her 
the day you went up in the wood.’^ 

A pretty girl ; yes.” 

That was all ; she had told the whole story ; even 
a lawyer had no right to know the rest j her story. 
He had been bending forward, a sharp eagerness in 
his eyes ; now he threw himself back, thrusting his 
right hand into his pocket. 

She did not like the attitude ; he was not as gen- 
tlemanly as Mark Kenderdine ; she wondered if he 
were as well educated, and if he were a Christian. 
Tanzy made fun of him and Marigold was scornful ; 
Mrs. Henderson liked him ; she said he loved his 
mother, and was as true as he was sharp. 

Mr. Henderson sent for him often ; he must be 
somebody. 

But he was kind to her ; he sought her and cared 
for what she cared. 

I have told you about my mother ; she is old — 
of course, to be my mother, and you thought I was 
forty ; she is exacting, like all invalids and old la- 
dies. I am like her, so you see she is hard to get 
along with, used to having her own way and not 
over charitable to the weaknesses of the world 5 she 
is all I have and 1 am all she has ; our house is old- 


332 


FOURFOLD. 


fashioned, gloomy enough, because there’s no one 
young in it ; out of the city, a deep yard, shaded in 
front, but cheerful in the rear, where mother’s cham- 
ber is. Betsey has been with us fifteen years and 
knows our ways and we know hers ; but she is old, 
too, like the rest of us, and the stairs are hard for 
her to climb. There’s nothing very tempting in 
the prospect ; but mother would live longer to have 
you ; I have studied you ; I stayed to study you ; 
if you will be yourself, faithful and true, and young 
and sunshiny, that is all I ask. It is not much of 
an offer ; she may live twenty years and grow 
harder to live with. Is your mind made up to any- 
thing after the Hendersons are gone ? ” 

So he had stayed for her sake ; to study her, and 
he believed her to be faithful and true and sunshiny, 
for her sake ! Was it not for his mother’s sake ? 
What did he expect of her ? 

Your duties will be light ; you will have nothing 
to do except in my mother’s room. Nurse says you 
are a good nurse for one so young. You suit me 
exactly, in every way ; my mother will learn to be 
suited after awhile; I will make it as pleasant for 
you as I can, in my old bachelor way.” 

For his mother’s sake, only ! She was ashamed 


IN THE SEWING-ROOM. 


333 


of the color in her cheeks ; she was ashamed to lift 
her eyes or to speak. What woxild he think, if he 
conld know what she thought when she heard his 
step and tap at the door ? 

You do not answer ; you want time,” he said, 

rising. 

I COM answer j I do not want time, ’ she flashed 
out. “ I cannot go. I do not know what I shall do 
next. I belong to Miss Tanzy. I am too happy 
here, to think of anything else.” 

“ But this cannot last ; this family are always on 
the wing. You would be happier in a permanent 
home.^’ 

“ I am happy where Miss Tanzy is.” 

“ But you will not be with her. Miss Lynn does 
not expect you back to stay. She told me so. She 
says she wants you to make a home somewhere. 

“Did she say that?” asked Lucinda’s whitened 
lips. 

“ She certainly did.” 

“ Of her own accord 1 ” 

“ Maria was there, her niece — she looked at her ; 
I think the old lady is afraid of her.” 

“ She is, if she raises her finger at her. Well, I 
can be independent. But I do not think I would 


334 


FOURFOLD, 


like to be shut up all the time with your mother.’^ 
I did not think you would, at first. But it is 
not as gloomy as you think. I will leave my ad- 
dress ; you may change your mind.” 

Oh, don’t, please,” she exclaimed, with an im- 
ploring hand outstretched, as he laid his card on the 
table. I don’t want to change my mind.” 

He shook hands with her and went down-stairs. 


LAD AND LASSIE. 


*• Remembrance wakes with all her busy train.’* 

Tanzy sat at the piano singing snatches of nurs- 
ery rhymes, and improvising merry music ; there 
were so many things to be glad about this morning ; 
Nurse was sleeping restfully after a night of pain, 
with Cinda beside her, and Cinda had a happy look, 
as she sewed on a dainty white wrapper for mamma ; 
mammals princess was getting on finely after a few 
suggestions from herself, and papa had been so 
bright at breakfast, and proposed a drive with Mari- 
gold ; he had even laughed at her enthusiasm for 
the Kenderdines, and said it could do no harm, as 
they had now but one week more at Daisy Fields. 
Mr. Fiske had come and made his will, and for some 
reason, after a talk with the old lawyer, papa had 
decided not to touch her money, and had not spoken 
at all on the subject to Marigold ; she was relieved, 

not only because she was discovering in the light, 

( 335 ) 


336 


FOURFOLD, 


and under the might of Christas teachings, new uses 
for this trust of wealth, but because she had not had 
to think meanly of papa;^’ she was ashamed of her- 
self as she put it thus to herself, and, then — she 
wondered why she should put this last in her list 
of things to be merry about ? Dr. Kenderdine came 
over every day to visit Nurse, and beside the talk in 
Nurse^s room, there was always, without any one 
bringing it about, the finding themselves together 
somewhere on the piazza, or at the piano, or over a 
book in the summer house ; and the finding them- 
selves together meant, what she enjoyed more than 
anything in the whole wide world, because she had 
so little of it in her life, — a good long talk about 
what she cared for most. 

And they both cared for the same things — most. 
Something he had quoted from Ruskin, impressed 
her deeply : God will put up with a great many 
things in the human heart, but there is one thing 
He will not put up with in it, — a second place. 

During these three weeks, since that rainy day 
that Mr. Ransom called, and Nurse fell on the steps, 
she had read the four Gospels through several times. 

The Gospel of Mark she had read aloud to her 
father. 


LAD AND LASSIE. 


337 


And how many talks she had had with Mrs. Ken- 
derdine and Margaret ; the three weeks held more 
than her last three years in growth and happiness, 
she told Margaret. 

With Lucinda she had gone every week to church, 
to the Wednesday evening lecture, and the Young 
People’s prayer-meeting. 

“ It is only for this month,” her father had grum- 
bled to her mother, “ a month cannot change every- 
thing, and she looks so sparkling, I haven’t the 
heart to keep her back. Marigold never takes 
things with such a rush.” 

She was sparkling this morning as she sang, low 
and mischievously : 

“ Upon the hridge, upon the bridge, 

That crossed the river Dee, 

A little lass, a little lass, 

Stood weeping silently. 

A little laddie crossed the bridge, 

The bridge above the Dee, 

And the little lassie dried her eyes, 

And smiled right merrily.’^ 

Her mother came in and stood beside her. 

“ Tan, what nonsense, child,” she half rebuked, 
smoothing her hair with a touch that contradicted 
her words. 


22 


338 


FOURFOLD, 


That depends upon what news the laddie 
brought, mainma/^ Tanzy answered, wisely. Per- 
haps he told her the world wasn’t such a bad, 
dreadful, wicked world as she was weeping about. 
That was good news enough to make her smile 
right merrily.” 

Perhaps he was too young to know,” was the 
guarded reply. Perhaps her father knew better.” 

Perhaps he had a way of finding out that her 
father hadn’t. But this is nonsense, mamma, dear. 
My father is very good to me, even if he will persist 
in carrying me off from Daisy Fields. The little 
lass was very silly to weep about that.” 

Tanzy dear, I hate to tell you.” 

The touch upon her hair was very pitiful and 
loving ; the girl knew something hard was coming, 
and braced herself to bear it. What mamma 
hated ” to say was always something to bear. 

Papa told Dr. Kenderdine yesterday to give 
him his bill, and that he needed him no longer for 
Nurse. He had sent for Dr. Stevens, and he 

would call to-day. He is not satisfied ” 

Tanzy did not speak, simply because she was too 
angry to speak. Her throat was so dry that she 
felt as if speaking would choke her to death. 


LAD AND LASSIE. 


339 


I^m sorry, darling. I couldn^t help it. He 
was angry because you were singing together. He 
said he had no right to intrude in a gentleman’s 
house ” 

Tanzy sprang away from her, and rushing up to 
her chamber, threw herself in girlish fashion at 
full length across the bed, and burst into loud, pas- 
sionate weeping. 

There was no appeal, no protection. He had 
been so kind, and gentle, and skilful, and Nurse 
loved him, and watched for his coming. What 
would she do ? How could she tell her, so restless 
and weak as she was, that a strange doctor was 
coming, and old Dr. Stevens, too, with his sharp, 
rough voice, his short calls, and his quick temper, 
if any order were disobeyed ? 

But that was not all — it was not half. To 
think that her father could do such a thing ! 

What would he think ! That papa thought — 

that he was afraid And then her hot cheeks 

grew hotter, and the sobs became low and despair- 
ing, She would be too ashamed ever to speak to 
him again. She would be too ashamed to go over 
this morning to see Mrs. Kenderdine, and take her 
that jar of Cook’s splendid currant jelly. She 


340 


FOURFOLD, 


would be too ashamed ever to speak his name to 
Margaret. 

If papa knew that he had told her all about Susie 
Hartwell, the pretty story of their friendship 
and engagement, and all about those days when 
he knew that she was dead, and how, at first, he was 
sure he could never love any one again, and how 
she had shown him her note from Susie, and her beau- 
tiful photograph, and told him all Susie had been to 
her — if papa knew — if he had known, if she had 
been frank and told him, perhaps he would not have 
done such a rude, wicked, unkind, insulting thing. 
And he had told her that this summer was a new 
creation to him ; and she had said her life was a 
new creation. Margaret was listening, and she had 
walked away as if she were not pleased with some- 
thing, and then he was silent and did not catch her 
next words. 

Had not poor old Nurse a right to choose her own 
physician ? The change would certainly make her 
more ill and nervous ; she must choke down her 
pride and beg papa, beseech him to let the old soul 
have her way ; she would promise to let Cinda take 
all the orders, she would promise not to — but what 
had she done ? 


LAD AND LASSIE, 


341 


Had she done it all ? Had anything been done ? 
Would he think that she had behaved so that papa 
had suspected ? 

Was it too late ? Had Dr, Stevens really been 
sent for ? Was that the reason he had taken Gold 
and gone to drive, because he knew she would be 
angry when Dr. Stevens xame ? 

Lucinda’s voice was in the dressing-room. 

Miss Tanzy.” 

Come here, Cinda.” 

The swift thought shot through her, burning every 
nerve with its red hot touch : Perhaps I care too 
much — and its just as well for him to be kept away.” 

She lifted herself and brushed back her hair, as 
Lucinda entered, saying with a careless laugh : I 
had to cry, Cinda, something happened; I’m all 
over it now.” 

Lucinda’s eyes were sympathetic enough to bring 
the tears again, but she resolutely kept them back ; 
for a moment Lucinda pondered how to speak what 
she had come to say. 

‘‘ The doctor called and asked to see me, and I 
went down. He would not come up. He said he 
was going away to Lake George for a week or two, 
and he asked me to tell you to keep on with Nurse 


342 


FOURFOLD, 


with everything that Dr. Stevens did not contradict; 
he said Dr. Stevens is experienced, and that Nurse 
needs nursing more than medicine j and he knew 
she would have that, and, I think that is all ; oh, 
he said, we must tell the new doctor what he had 
done. I’m sorry he is going, for Nurse will break 
her heart. She awoke a few minutes before he sent 
for me, and asked if it were not time for the doctor 
to come.” 

And they might stay years abroad ! Papa even 
talked of renting Daisy Fields for five years. She 
uttered not one word. 

In a simple white dress of Tanzy’s making, with a 
broad sash of pale blue silk, that Tanzy had tied 
about her waist that morning, the village girl, tall, 
fair, with her graceful ways and pleasant voice, 
looked not at all out of place at Daisy Fields. 

Mr. Fiske had inquired if she were a relative, 
and Mrs. Kenderdine said the girls might not be 
ashamed if she were a cousin ; she would be another 
attractive Miss Henderson. 

Well, Cinda, is that all ? ” asked Tanzy, with 
a slight hesitation, feeling as if she were coming 
back to herself from somewhere. Not a word of 
good-bye ? ” 


LAD AND LASSIE, 


343 


He stood awhile and then went. He almost be- 
gan to say something. I think he is a proud man.’^ 
Tanzy laughed ; she was proud, too. 

m break it to Nurse as gently as I can. Per- 
haps after we are gone, she can have him again.” 

That^s another thing that breaks her heart — 
your going,” said Lucinda. 

Poor old thing ! This is a heart-breaking 
world.” 

It is a happy world to me, Miss Tanzy,” said 
Lucinda, her voice breaking. You have made it 
a new world to me : I have to wonder if I can be 
Lucinda Mayhew. No wonder Mr. Fiske asked if I 
were your cousin ; you and Miss Marigold help me 
to forget that I ever had another home. Your 
mother is so lovely to me, too.” 

Not papa ? ” asked Tanzy, with a quizzical 
look. 

I am afraid of him, gentle as he is. But I did 
not tell you ; I wanted to tell you about yesterday. I 
was in the sewing-room cutting out your cream nun^s 
veiling, and he came up and sat down and talked to 
me. I was frightened, and hardly dared do anything 
but answer his questions. He began by asking how 
old I was, and then, in his gracious way, said I did 


344 


FOURFOLD. 


not look over twenty-one. That is because I am so 
rested and happy and love my work. I love it from 
morning till night. I love my little bed in your 
dressing-room^ I love to be near you.” 

Now, Cinda,” said Tanzy, teazingly, you 
pretend you are in love with me.” 

Keep me where I can prove it,” retorted Lu- 
cinda, merrily. 

But you musn’t forget your old home.” 

It is not my old home as it was. Maria has 
spoiled it for me. When I think that Auntie 
really believes that I talked against her to the 
neighbors, I have hard work to forgive Maria. It 
is time for me to go.” 

Where shall you go next ? ” 

To Falkland. I can get work there with the 
dressmaker who taught me my trade.” 

Do not engage yourself, Cinda. I can do bet- 
ter for you than that. Trust me, will you ? ” 

Yes,” was the short, full reply. 

What else did papa ask you ? ” 

All about myself when I was little, and after- 
ward in the Asylum, and then about coming to 
Mansfield. He asked me if I had had a hard life, and 
I said, ^ No, it had been a very happy life as long 


LAD AND LASSIE. 


345 


as Auntie loved me and trusted me.’ He asked all 
about grandfather’s life, and I told him all I know. 
Grandfather’s Bible was on a table under a pile 
of things, and I showed him that, with my birth 
in it, and mother’s. He found the date where 
he sold his farm, and said he was sorry if 
that old story were true, and then he asked 
me to find grandfather’s psalm. I was surprised 
to have him take such an interest in me. I’m 
ashamed to tell you this, because you will think 
I am sinfully proud. He took a hundred dollars 
out of his pocket-book and offered it to me to 
pay all grandfather’s expenses ; and because I 
spoke of a plain little headstone with those words 
he loved cut on it, he wanted to pay for that. 
He said nursing was not easy work, and I 
was faithful. But I could not take it. Miss 
Tanzy. I am not proud when you give me things. 

I love to wear anything that has belonged to 
you, and I feel humble and grateful because you 
are so good to me ; but this was not like that. 
He had no right to give, and I had no right 
to take. I cannot accept anything unless it is 
for love’s sake. I am too proud.” 

Was papa hiirt ? ” asked Tanzy, quickly, 


346 


FOURFOLD, 


remembering how moved he had been at Lucinda’s 
story. 

Yes, I think so. I told him I would be glad 
of it when I had earned it. He said I should 
stay and take care of Nurse after you are gone — 
oh, only a week more, Miss Tanzy ! — but I 
cannot do that. I cannot stay here without you. 
I should die of lonesomeness.” 

I do not wish this for you. I have some- 
thing else in my mind. It is working itself 
along,” said Tanzy, thinking how this girl, a 
stranger, a month ago, had fitted herself into 
several niches in this new home, so new to 
her, so unlike any other home in Mansfield. 

Her tact was perfect — if it were tact. Perhaps 
it was simply being herself, grateful, demonstra- 
tive, considerate, true to her high ideal of woman- 
hood. Tanzy had not forgotten the white figure 
kneeling in prayer night and morning, nor the 
moment of silence with bowed head as she sat at 
her breakfast alone. 

Susie Hartwell, Mark Kenderdine’s promised 
wife, would have cared for this village girl. 

Cinda,” said Tanzy, looking at her curiously, 

I wonder what made you ? ” 


LAD AND LASSIE. 


347 


I do not understand you, Miss Tanzy.’^ 

I am glad you do not. Only stay as you 
are. I wonder if prosperity would spoil you ? ’’ 

Is it spoiling me now ? asked Lucinda, with 
a quick, glad, sweet look that went to Tanzy^s 
heart. 

This was prosperity ; a tireless nurse in a 
querulous old woman’s darkened room, a sewing 
girl for strangers, an outing to attend church two 
or three times a week, meal time by herself : for 
Tanzy would not permit her to go to the servants’ 
dining-room, and her father had frowned and spoken 
with angry decision when she asked that she might 
come to the family table. Besides this, a quick, 
neat, willing waiting-maid upon two exacting girls 
who had never learned to wait upon themselves, and 
ready at any hour, day or night, to obey a sum- 
mons to the inconsiderate lady of the house. 

Prosperity to the nurse, waiting-maid, and seam- 
stress, was the independence her proud spirit had 
long craved, the loving appreciation of her services, 
and the companionship of a girl like Tanzy Hen- 
derson. 

I forget that I have no mother and never had a 
sister, and that Auntie does not trust me as she used 


348 


FOURFOLD. 


to do, when I am with you,” said Lucinda, with un- 
affected gratitude and admiration. Mr. Kansora 
says I have a tendency to idolatrous affection, but I 
am not afraid. I Tcnow I cannot be disappointed in 
you.” 

Tanzy gave her an impulsive kiss. 

Find something to read and rest here awhile ; 
it is my hour to be with Nurse, and I must see the 
new doctor. I am disappointed in myself often 
enough, but I would be sorry to have you disap- 
pointed in me.” 

But, Miss Tanzy,” detaining her with a hand 
upon her arm, ^^was I wrong to refuse the money? 
I could not take money from any one — who would 
not eat with me,” she finished in a lower tone. 

Oh, you proud thing,” cried Tanzy with a laugh. 

Papa doesn’t know you as I do. I am glad you 
refused it.” 

Tanzy went to Nurse, and Lucinda lay down and 
fell asleep ; she had been watching with Nurse since 
midnight. Tanzy’s father had expressed surprise 
that Mrs. Kenderdine had invited Lucinda to tea ; 
Tanzy was proud of it. 

Lucinda was in a discouraged mood that after- 
noon; she took tea with Mrs. Kenderdine. Marigold 


LAD AND LASS/D. 


349 


had told her they were packing for a long stay on 
the other side of the world^ and with a burst of 
tears, she had said to Mrs. Kenderdine that every 
door was shut to her, and had confided to her the 
school boy and school girl attachment between 
herself and Hoyt Wayland, that had grown to 
indifference on his part, and now that she had found 
Tanzy, she must lose her again ; she had lost every- 
thing she ever had. 

With her own comfort Mrs. Kenderdine had com- 
forted her ; whatsoever is right I will give you.’^ 
And Lucinda had taken the precious new words 
to herself and into her own life. 

Miss Tanzy may marry and stay over there, 
Lucinda said. 

Possibly. We do not know what the laid up 
right things are for her. But she will not forget 
you.^’ 

I am sure of that ; but she will be so far away. 
I would love to be her dog and follow her around the 
world ; she has done for me what no one else ever 
did ; she has given me some of herself. I cannot 
tell you what I mean. She has kissed me twice.^’ 
Mrs. Kenderdine told Tanzy that Cinda’s devo- 
tion was faithful and true ; that she was her lover. 


850 


FOURFOLD, 


More than once during these three weeks, even 
Tanzy’s brave heart had failed in thinking of the 
wish for Lucinda ; it was becoming every day 
more unpromising. Marigold had laughed and 
fretted over it, and declared she would never give 
her consent ; who had ever heard of such a crazy 
thing ? It was exactly like Tan, Cinda was good 
enough as she was, a treasure of a maid, with a real 
talent for hair-dressing, and never tired or disre- 
spectful, but it was a risk, and she herself had too 
much good sense to be willing to risk it. Papa 
never would consent ; what was the use of thinking 
about it and continually talking about it ? 

Then Tanzy was angry and said she was her own 
mistress and would do as she chose ; and Marigold 
had cried a little and run over to Mrs. Kenderdine’s 
to forget how disagreeable Tan was. 

Only a week left,’’ thought Tanzy, as she coaxed 
Lucinda to rest, and my courage is all oozing 
out.” 

And then, as she stood on the threshold of the sick 
room, and looked in at the thin, old worn face on 
the pillow, and the thin old worn hand moving 
restlessly upon the counterpane, she felt how much 
of the charm and beauty, the inspiration to ministry 


LAD and lassie, 35I 

was taken away, now that Mark Kenderdine had 
gone and taken the life out of it. 

Was it true, humiliatingly true, that she had not 
given him the second place, but the first ? 

Because now, she almost chought she would not 
care so much for her New Testament reading ; she 
could not ask him any questions ; and he had left 
not one word for her. She had given herself un- 
asked. 


XXIIL 

WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 

‘^Whatever, below God, is the object of oiir love, will, at 
sometime or other, be the matter of our sorrow.” 

While Tanzy stood thus, on the threshold, think- 
ing her uneasy thoughts, the subject of them sat on 
the honey-suckle end of the piazza beside Mrs. Ken- 
derdine’s hammock ; it was a very gloomy face that 
her kindly eyes peered into ; was the something 
coming that had been in her own thoughts since 
that talk with Tanzy yesterday? 

Had he, too, guessed the girPs secret? So frank, 
so natural, so demonstrative, so imspoiled, with 
hitherto so little need of self-control and reserve, 
had her secret been as open to him as to this friend 
in whom she so unsuspectingly confided ? 

He lifted his eyes at her quick breath, and gave 
his hat a toss. 

IVe been over to Daisy Fields to leave my bill, 
as His Indignation requested. It would oblige 
( 352 ) 


WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


353 


him if I would do it immediately, so I obliged him, 
instead of remarking that my services were at his 
service, which I was mad enough to do. However, 
as I lay awake last night, imeasy as the head that 
wears a crown, I began to see a glimmer of sense 
in the proceeding. Still if he thinks a lie I am not 
to be blamed. Auntie, Vm in a fix, and I feel as if 
I were the meanest fellow in the universe. That 
piece of sparkle and depth and truth over the way 
has deceived herself, or I have deceived her ; I wish 
you could look at it impartially and tell me what in 
honor I am bound to do. Let me tell you my side. 
I am a traitor to speak of it, even; but I suffer all 
through me. 

You know I was sent for, to attend the nurse ; 
it was necessary that I should call every day. It 
was necessary that some one should have the care 
of her, some intelligent person, and that was Tanzy. 
She answered my questions and took my directions ; 
she did everything well. When Lucinda came to 
share the nursing, Tanzy kept the same position of 
head nurse, and I always saw her ; and if Marigold 
or Lucinda were there, they went away and sent 
Tanzy. That seemed to be understood. It was 
easier for me because she understood. I fell into 


23 


354 


FOURFOLD. 


the way of lingering — she kept everything as neat as 
a pin and as sweet as a rose — and then I liked to 
study my case. As it happens to be my only one I 
am unusually interested. 

After the first few days — I do not know how it 
was — but Tanzy and I always had place and time 
for a talk. You know what a bright talker she 
is ! What was an idle fellow to do ? She is a 
picture to look at, besides. Before I knew it I 
was drawn into, or drew myself into speaking 
of Susie, and then she had the whole story. I 
had not spoken of that time for so long, and 
I was full of it. Especially as it was about 
the anniversary of our engagement, and I had 
been reading piles of her letters. She told me 
all she knew about her, and that drew us together, 
and made the next day^s talk more sympathetic. 
She asked me questions — she is such an ignorant 
child — and it was a great pleasure to teach her, 
and watch the changes in her eyes. 

It has not been long — not over three weeks — 
but two hours of such talk every day may make 
lovers out of friends. And I rode home from 
evening service twice or three times with her, 
and, as were both strangers, we happened to 


WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


355 


be shown to the same seat in church. Not a day 
but that she has been over to see you, besides^ and 
often I have gone back with her on some pretext or 
other, or kept her here while Margaret played. We 
have lent each other books — and, altogether, the 
mischief is done, and I have done it as innocently as 
though it were my own sister.^^ 

Mark, Mark, weren^t you old enough to think? 

I was fool enough, and selfish enough not to. I 
kept thinking that it could not last, they were going 
away so soon. Evidently her father sees something 
and has warned me off. It’s fully time. I wdsh the 
dog had been set on me before. I knew I was on 
dangerous ground, and hadn’t the moral courage to 
shove myself off. Shooting is too good for me.” 
Mark, what do you know ? ” 

Auntie, what do you know ? ’’ 

Only what I see and feel and understand.” 

That is all I know. She is so frank and true ; 
her heart leaps into her eyes ; I am not worthy of 
a thought of hers. I think I told her that I should 
never care for any one again — ” 

And yet kept on acting as though you cared for 
her.” 

‘‘ If I have, if I have deceived her — ” 


356 


FOURFOLD. 


You have deceived her^ certainly. * 

But it is such a little time ; I knew Susie two 
years before I said anything.” 

I suppose you have spent as much time with 
her in these three weeks as you did with Susie in 
six months.” 

More,” he returned, emphatically. 

And you have shown her the same small atten- 
tions and talked upon the same subjects, and sung 
the same soUgs — ” 

Very likely.” 

You would have reproached Susie and told her 
she was blind not to understand — ” 

I did say that very thing.” 

The case is against you.” 

Then I will take your verdict. Shall I ask her 
to marry me ? ” 

Not for the world.” 

What do you mean, then ? ” 

Only to prove to you how thoughtless and cruel 
you have been. You are the first gentleman friend 
she ever had. She never had an hour’s conversation 
with any gentleman alone before. All she knows 
of love-making is from love-stories. She has simply 
been true to. herself ; it was like her to love you ; 


WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


357 


she could not help it ; you appeal to everything that 
is fine in her. Had she been experienced, self- 
controlled, worldly wise, she could not have done it ; 
she would have seen that you could hardly do other- 
wise ; that you were drawn because she drew you. 
Mark, she has done it unconsciously as those honey- 
suckles do ; they nod because they are so natural 
and so sweet, and so has she.’’ 

Why didn’t you warn me ? ” he asked, very 
much injured. 

thought it not possible, but probable — until 
within a day or two, that you had found some one to 
take Susie’s place.” 

^^Did I deceive you, too ? Fool, coward, that I 
am ! Well, then, I must take the consequences.” 

What are the consequences ! ” asked Mrs. Ken- 
derdine. 

Let her go away with only a promise to write — 
and when it is wiser, when my heart is really in it, 
ask her if I may go to her.” 

Will your heart ever be really in it ? ” 

Why not ? I love everything that she is. I 
am not half good enough for her ; I love her for 
loving me.” 

If she had overheard this conversation, do you 


358 


FOURFOLD. 


think she would promise to write to you ? 

I see the fire in her eyes — and the tears, too/’ 
he answered. 

Mark, I am heartily sorry.” 

So am I,” 

I do not advise you to do that.” 

What do you advise me to do ? ” 

I am not wise ; I cannot say,” 

How can I be wise, then ? ” he asked, im- 
patiently. 

You can wait, that is always wisdom.” 

But what will she think ? ” 

She will think what you have given her the 
right to think.” 

Don’t bring that up again,” he said, irritably 
An hour ago I had no more idea of marrying her 
than I have of marrying Lucinda, and now I seem 
to think I must.” 

Do not fear ; she will refuse you. She is too 
keen not to feel that your heart is not in your words. 
It is a pity for a girl to marry the first man she 
knows simply because he is the first. She has work 
to do in the world.” 

‘^As if marriage were not God's work for 
woman,” he cried, indignantly. 


WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


359 


I should be sorry, indeed, if it were her only 
work, and so would you.” 

True, wise old lady ! ” 

Do you start to-day ? ” 

I take the night boat.” 

Don^t be hasty, I beg of you. She will get over 
it.” 

But I cannot bear to have her think that I have 
played with her ; had a good time and made her 
pay for it. I do not care if she does not love me ; 
but I do care for her to think well of me,” he in- 
sisted. 

What pride and selfishness ! ” 

There is not one good thing in me to-day. I am 
ashamed to have the sun shine on me. PU go over 
and tell her that Susie^s brother and sister are sum- 
mering at Lake George, and have sent for me.” 

But she will be gone before you return.” 

I had forgotten that. I wish she had never 
seen me. I do not believe she will ‘ get over ^ it, as 
you say. She is too deep — there’s nothing shallow 
about her. Well, any way, I will not go until I can 
hit upon something.” 

He walked away, and the friend who loved Tanzy, 
asked God to comfort her and make her strong to 


360 


FOURFOLD. 


endure, and keep her from making a mistake in her 
next step, and not to let Mark Kenderdine, whom 
she had too confidently trusted, hinder her work in 
life. 

After a moment he returned : I wish you would 
tell me what to do,^^ he said, boyishly. 

I do not know what you must do 5 I know what 
I would wish you to do if I were the girl.’^ 

What ? he asked, eager, and relieved. 

If I were the girl, I should think it a further 
wrong to be offered a grudging affection ; that would 
be a humiliation that I could not bear.'’ 

I wish she had never seen me,’’ he exclaimed 
again. 

Had he been a woman he would have burst into 
tears. And it was the girl Susie loved he had 
treated so. 

Why do you not wish you had never seen her?’’ 

The sarcasm slipped past him. 

Because I am glad to see her j I cannot forget 
her,” 

Are you suffering now because she is miserable, 
or because you are ? ” was the next merciless ques- 
tion. 

Don’t be sarcastic, please,” he answered, humbly. 


WHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


361 


Again he walked away ; Mrs, Kenderdine folded 
her hands and lay still ; what else was there to do, 
but to fold her hands and lie still ? If the girl were 
her own Margaret, she could do no more. And 
sometimes she had thought that he loved Margaret ! 
But Margaret, merry, wise, busy Margaret, even 
her mother knew not her heart. 

Girls must learn what life is,’^ she sighed, as 
long as men are impulsive and weak, and easily at- 
tracted, and do not know their own minds. Girls 
must suffer — and learn. But how can he help loving 
this Tanzy ? 

Once again Mark came back, this time with a de- 
cided step and assured voice. 

I shall go to Lake George to-night. I will run 
over and say good-bye. Whether I return before 
she leaves or whether this is the last of it — de- 
pends.’^ 

Depends ! Upon what ? Mrs. Kenderdine 
meditated. ‘^Upon himself, upon some one else, 
upon Tanzy ? How can we ever know upon what 
God permits his will to depend ! I am glad I do 
not have to know.^^ 

With the comfort of this assurance, she sought to 
dismiss every thought of the perplexity, but Tanzy^s 


362 


FOURFOLD, 


eyes, and that quick flush yesterday, would not be 
hushed out of the rush of pity that was keeping her 
heart beating too fast. 

Selfishly she was glad that the girl was not Mar- 
garet. Was God, her Father in Heaven, glad that 
it was not Margaret ? Had he chosen this for Tan* 
zy instead of Margaret ? 

I am glad God, and not mothers, has the care 
of girls,’^ she said to herself ; how do I know that 
he is not as loving and wise to every girl in the 
world, as he was to me ? 

Mark, from his chamber, was calling Mar- 
garet. 

say. Sis, put all my things out for me, will 
you ? I may stay a month at Lake George.’^ 

A month ! she repeated. “ Why, Mark, the 
Hendersons will be gone.’’ 

What of that ? ’’ he asked, somewhat roughly. 

Then Tanzy must have refused him ! 

He looked up and saw a look he had never seen 
before in Margaret’s eyes, watching him. 

What are you thinking, little sister? Tell me 
true.” 

^^I’m so sorry — I was sure she cared — ” she 
stumbled through the words. I did not think she 


IVHOSE FAULT WAS IT? 


S63 


was like this.’^ And then she was frightened at her- 
self for not being true. 

She isn^t. I am. Margaret, what shall I do ? 

About going ? she asked, not understanding. 

About staying ? Suppose you cared for me 
and I did not care for you as much as you cared, what 
would you want me to do ? He did not meet her 
eyes ; he was pulling things out of his top drawer in 
unnecessary haste. 

I would want you to go to Lake George and 
stay there — -forever with proud emphasis upon the 
last word. 

Then I wiiy’ he laughed, with a laugh harsh, 
and not like himself. 

Margaret went down to her mother for a word : 

Mother, life is long, and things don’t happen in a 
minute.” 

Not always,” said her mother, smiling. Have 
you evolved that out of your morning’s work ? ” 

What have you evolved ? ” 

That the French saying is true : Heaven chooses 
the way of the unexpected.” 

Then,” with an air of impatience, how can we 
be ready for anything ? ” 

‘‘ We cannot. There is but one thing we must 


364 


FOURFOLD, 


be ready for ; the only thing that is sure to be ; I 
hope it is not unexpected to us/^ she said, very 
gently. 

Margaret knew : God^s will. She believed it was 
the only will her mother had. 

Her mother was on Tanzy^s side. But wasn^t 
God! 

He was on both sides. 

Was she on Tanzy’s side ! Had not Tanzy 
spoiled her good times with Mark this summer ? 
Was it not hard, more than once in a while, to keep 
from not loving and admiring this girl who had so 
much before she had Mark ! 

And Mark had belonged to her in a way he had 
not belonged to anybody — not even Susie. 


XXIV. 


GOOD-BTE. 

If our lives were but more simple, we should take him at 
his word.’^ 

Early after luncli, Tanzy sat at Nurse^s bedside, 
holding her hand and soothing her, responding to 
each querulous question as wisely as she knew, and 
more gently than she felt. 

I think I am of enough consequence for your 
young Dr. Kenderdine to wait and not go on his 
trip yet awhile. He wouldn^t leave your mother in 
the lurch. IVe got money enough laid up,^’ Nurse 
grumbled. 

As if I would let you pay him, Nurse, when you 
were hurt going after tender lettuce for me ! 

I don’t like this old doctor, any way ! ” 

We shall like him when we know him better. 
He has kind eyes,” Tanzy schooled herself to say. 

And hard fingers,” she groaned ; he hurt my 
back more in pinching it once than Dr. Kenderdine 

( 365 ) 


366 


FOURFOLD, 


did all the time he has been here. He isn’t the 
only one that’s going either. I hope I shall die be- 
fore next v/eek/’ she moaned, weeping slow tears. 

I shall die here, with only Cook.” 

Why not hope you will be well, before next 
week ? ” asked Tanzy, smiling, you do not see the 
bright side, Nursie.” 

There isn’t any, if you all go away. I shall die 
of home-sickness for each one of you. I don’t see 
why I had to slip. Nobody else slipped that day.” 

Perhaps it is like the birds’ falling.” Tanzy did 
not quite know how she meant it, and perhaps Nurse 
did not care if God knew about the sparrows ; but 
everything must be like that ; everything in this 
world, where unexpected things were always, hap- 
pening — as unexpected as Dr Kenderdine going 
away. 

What birds ? ” queried the fretful old lips. 

All the birds, Nursie, all the birds in the world. 
They are such tiny bits of things, and two of them 
sold for a farthing, two sparrows, and Jesus Christ 
said, they couldn’t fall without his Father.” 

Whose Father ? ” 

His Father.” 

Who is his Father ? ” 


GOOD-BYE, 


367 


Ohj Nurse, don^t you know ? God is his Father, 
and your Father and my Father.” 

I wish I had a father and a mother. I wish I 
was little, and when my back ached, my mother 
would hold me in her arms, and when I can’t keep 
still, that she would hold me still. I wish fathers 
and mothers wouldn’t die.” 

My father and mother haven’t died, but I have 
to cry, and they cannot comfort me ; they don’t 
know, and they couldn’t help if they did know. But 
God knows, and he can help — although I don’t see 
how — ” she sobbed, dashing quick tears away. 

He hasn’t helped me any, Miss Tanzy.” 

Oh, yes ; for you might have been killed.” 

Then I wouldn’t be here groaning and aching ! ” 
she returned, perversely. I may be a year on my 
back, like an eld woman in the village that Cook 
goes to see ; she sent me word not to be too anxious 
to get about, for old bones are cantankerous things. 
Will you read to *me. Miss Tanzy, dear ? That 
helps me forget. Cook found piles of old paper-cov- 
ered books in the garret, and she reads to me.” 

You want something better than those exciting 
old novels,” said Tanzy, with energy. 

^^No, I don’t. This reading about a woman 


368 


FOURFOLD. 


whose husband didn^t love her, and she’s gone away 
and he thinks she’s drowned and he’s in despair ; and 
I want to see how she makes him love her ” 

Nurse, that’s silly,” said Tanzy, positively. 

We can’t make people love us, if they are deter- 
mined not to — not like that.” 

It’s exciting, and I forget my back and my side 
and my head.” 

That wouldn’t make him love her ; he would be 
glad not to be troubled with her. If people don’t 
love you, drowning yourself isn’t the way to make 
them.” 

What IS the way, then ? ” 

I do not know that there is any way — except 
being lovely.” 

‘‘ She was lovely. I’m getting nervous. Can’t 
Lucinda come ? Don’t stay here, poor lamb, this 
room is no place for you. Go across the sea and 
forget Nurse, who used to let you play in the sand 
and save your pebbles for you,” 

Tanzy was weary and impatient , Nurse was fe- 
verish, and she had not succeeded in quieting her 
restlessness ; why not let Lucinda come ? 

Why might she not have the luxury of being 
alone a little while ? 


GOOD-BYE. 


369 


Marigold^s voice was at the open door as Tanzy 
slowly took her fingers away from the restless hot 
hand. 

Tan^ Dr. Kenderdine is down-stairs; he has said 
good-bye to ns and asked for you. Mamma was 
quite effusive, and asked him to look us up if he 
comes to Europe while we are there. Papa invited 
him to limch with us in Cairo, and altogether we 
had quite a funny time.^^ 

Send Cinda to Nurse, then.’’ 

I’ll stay awhile,” promised Marigold. I’ll read 
her to sleep.” 

Tanzy went out into the hall and stood leaning 
over the baluster, undecided whether to go down or 
whether to send Gold to say that she was busy with 
Nurse. 

How could she shake hands with him and say 
good-bye and something funny,” before papa and 
mamma % Papa would see her without looking at 
her, and mamma would be sorry — about what ? 

If he would step out on the lawn, then she might 
thank him for giving her so many good times, and 
say she hoped to be like Susie, more like Susie — 
when they met — in Cairo. And she could ask him 

if Susie’s sister, Bess, who was at Lake George with 
2.x 


370 


FOURFOLD, 


her brother, were exactly like Susie. They were 
twins, and Bess was two years older than Mark ; 
once Susie had told him that some day he would 
marry Bess by mistake, and he had said it would 
indeed be by mistake. Only yesterday he had told 
her that. He had not seen Bess since Susie died, 
because he could not bear to see her ; but he was 
going to her now ; and he had come to say good-bye 
to her ! To-morrow night he would be rowing with 
her in the moonlight. 

Tan, run down quick ; he said he was in a 
hurry,^^ called Marigold. Your hair is all right.’^ 
With color embarrassingly bright. Tan ran down 
stairs ; her mother was at her interrupted work, as ab- 
sorbed as ever; her father, lounging in his chair, was 
giving bits of information concerning Lake George. 
Tanzy^s slight greeting was gravely returned: 
Yes, I remember,’’ Mark Kenderdine was saying, 
and the Indian name was Andiatarocto ; Horicon 
was Cooper’s name for it. It was disgraceful in 
those ignorant farmer-folks to burn part of the walls 
of Fort George for lime ; we have ruins few enough 
in our new country. My friends are camping 
quite a party. Bess is wild over Paradise Bay. I 
spent a month there — once.” 


GOOD-BYE. 


371 


By his tone, Tanzy knew when the once was, 
and who was with Queen Bess. 

Queen Bess has written to me/^ he said, turning 
familiarly to Tanzy, they have not seen me for so 
long, I forgot to speak of it to you yesterday. 

He had forgotten Bess then, for a little while ! 
Mark could not understand the sudden lighting of 
her eyes. 

She is a climber. Have you ever climbed 
Black Mountain ? 

No, papa wouldn’t let us ; but he has promised 
to be very good to us this time,’^ she said, playfully. 

Grold and I are to be wild, and see the world for 
ourselves.’^ 

I hope you may find something very good in it,^^ 
he returned gravely, too gravely for her to remem- 
ber with any hope ; and then he looked at his watch 
and hesitated, and then stepped toward her with 
half-extended hand : Grood-bye, Miss Tanzy, have 
you any message for Bess ? You knew her, too,^^ 
with a slight falling inflection. 

Not welL Please say I can never forget that 
time.’^ 

It seemed but an instant, and he was gone ; she 
had not thanked him for her good times, she had 


372 


FOURFOLD, 


not said good-bye, at all ; her father was talking 
about Lake George again, and her mother was 
stepping back to take a view of the effect of her 
last dozen stitches. 

^‘Tan,^’ said her father, ^‘what do you suggest 
about Nurse ? Dr. Stevens says she may get up 
and she may not. Shall I send for a trained nurse, 
or send her to a hospital ? Kenderdine says she 
has a strong constitution.’^ 

Nurse ! ” repeated Tanzy, as if she had forgotten 
her existence. Through the window she saw Mark 
Kenderdine crossing the street. She would never 
again see him crossing the street. She would never 
again see him anywhere. 

Wife, have you seen her to-day ? ” 

Nurse? No. Ernest, how could I?’’ with a 
protesting appeal. Only a week to finish my 
picture. You know I cannot take the oil painting 
with us, and I must have that. 1 cannot go and 
leave this unfinished. It must be done and framed 
before I leave it. I’m sure I don’t know where to 
hang it. Life is very unsatisfactory,” she sighed, 
with starting tears. 

0, Helen,” he laughed. I never saw you in 
such a mood before. Your picture is a beauty,” 


COOD-B^S, 


373 


I do not think I meant only that^^ she replied, 
with a shy look at the girl still gazing absently to- 
ward the window. And Tanzy would never know 
that her mother understood ! Would the girls never 
know how much mamma understood ? 

I suppose Lucinda would stay/’ he said, return- 
ing to the perplexing subject of Nurse, she seems 
to be an excellent nurse ; she seems to be excellent 
in several departments. A proud piece, too,” he 
added, with a smile, as if at something in his own 
recollection. 

She does not wish to stay,” observed Tanzy, 
tartly. 

Mark Kenderdine had disappeared among the 
honeysuckle vines. 

It would pay,” remarked her father. 

That is not the kind of pay she lives for,” said 
Tanzy, quickly. 

She would be glad enough of money,” he grum- 
bled. 

“For a purpose. Of course, she must have 
money,” decided Tanzy, who had found the full 
strength of her voice. 

“ Ernest.” His wife wheeled around towards 
him. “ Ernest,” very impressively, “ I want to take 


374 


FOURFOLD, 


her with me. She is the most invaluable person we 
ever had in the house. She always knows, without 
telling, what you want, and where it is.^^ 

Every drop of blood in Tanzy’s frame was tin 
gling ; her mother had said it ! 

This was her ‘‘ wish for Lucinda : that she 
should go with them. But this was not all. Might 
she dare to speak now ? 

“ Take her, then,” consented her father, lazily ; 
we have always had poor old Nurse : take this 
girl instead. Will she go ? ” 

If Tanzy asks her,” replied Tanzy^s mother. 

Ask her. Tan,” said her father, in his tone of 
lazy good-humor. Your mother cannot take her 
princess, but she shall have her maid.” 

As soon as Tanzy flew from the room, her mother 
said, in a coaxing tone : Ernest, dear, we must 
let Tanzy do the very next thing she wants to do.” 

As if she always didn’t.” 

But you must,” she persisted. I am in real 
earnest. She’ll be lonely awhile, you know. Dear, 
don’t forget how young she is.” 

She’ll have enough to think of. I’m glad he’s 
out of the way. She was plucky, though. If he 
dares write to her. I’ll ” 


XXV. 


FOURFOLD. 

He that has light within his own clear breast, may sit in 
the centre and enjoy bright days.” 

Gold/^ summoned Tanzy^ at Nurse’s door, 1 
want you.” 

Nurse was still fretful, and Lucinda came and told 
her stories about the Mansfield people. Mansfield 
was full of queer people, as soon as Lucinda began 
to tell stories about them, and Nurse could be amus- 
ed by the hour. 

With her arm about her sister, Tanzy drew her 
into their dressing-room, and down into a wide chair 
beside herself 

Now, be good, and think and speak seriously. 
Gold, for I’m dreadfully in earnest, and I cannot do 
it without you, and I will not do it to displease you.” 

Don’t be tragical. Tan ! ” laughed Marigold, 
somewhat nervously, however, do you want my 
consent ? ” 


(375) 


376 


FOURFOLD, 


said Tanzy, flushing uncomfortably, un- 
der the mischief in her sister’s eyes, I must have 
your consent to my plan for Cinda. The time has 
come to ask papa. He is in one of his gracious 
moods. Mamma asked if she might take her with 
us, and he said yes. Mamma means as a maid. 
But I will never ask her to go that way, and be reg- 
istered with us, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, the Misses 
Henderson and maid. Mamma shall advertise for 
some one else. I will never do that. If she cannot 
go with us as a friend. Miss Mayhew, she shall not 
go at all. You know my heart is set on it. Gold.” 

Tanzy’s lips quivered, her eyes filled, and she hid 
her face on her sister’s shoulder. 

I’m such a baby,” she exclaimed, after a mo- 
ment, raising her head with a laugh and dashing the 
tears away. I don’t see what ails me to-day.” 

Silent, quick-eyed Marigold saw ; she felt her 
sister’s secret. She felt it, and she had been afraid 
for her ; she saw how franldy, how unconsciously, 
how naturally her sister was revealing herself ; she 
was glad that he was gone. She knew that he did 
not love Tanzy ; she knew that he loved some one 
else. 

You are a goose, that’s what ails you,” she re- 


FOURFOLD, 


377 


plied, unfeelingly ; but you shall have your Miss 
Mayhew if your heart is set on it ; you shall have 
all the Miss Mayhews in the world, and 1^11 be re- 
spectful to them, if it will keep anything from ailing 
you.^^ 

A close embrace emphasized the consent, with two 
or three warm kisses, more sympathetic than Tanzy 
suspected. 

Now I must storm the other citadel, and the 
city is taken,’^ she cried, pushing Marigold aside and 
springing up, but I am terribly afraid of papa. 
Mamma will be willing for anything.^’ 

Tanzy went down-stairs, and straight to her 
father ; he was still lounging in an arm-chair with a 
Harper’s Magazine thrust behind him, as unconcern- 
ed as if there were not a heartache in the world. 
There was not in his world. 

Papa,” she began, without the slightest introduc- 
tion, hurriedly and breathlessly, wish to adopt 
Lucinda. This is my third wish. I have had it 
all the time ; IVe been waiting for this opportunity, 
when something had to be decided. And I wanted 

you and mamma to understand her full value ” 

With surprised eyes her father looked at her* 
So this is your royal pleasure ? ” 


378 


FOURFOLD. 


At another time the sarcasm would have hurt. 

She has been adopted once — from an Orphan 
Asylum.^^ 

Tanzy hurried on, not noticing his interrup- 
tion. I would not like to be adopted that 
way. Miss Lynn was very kind in her way, but 
she has no right to her now ; she has her niece ; 
she does not care for Lucinda as she did. She told 
her last Sunday, coming out of church, that she 
thought it would be a good idea for her to find work 
in Falkland, Maria must have made her do it j it 
hurts Cinda. My plan is this : treat her like a cous- 
in. Mr. Fiske thought she was a cousin when he 
first saw her. She has won her place^she will keep 
it. I don’t mean a ]^oor cousin, who’s snubbed and 
made to do drudgery, ‘but a cousin who has a home 
with friendly cousins, who share all their rights 
with her, and dress her handsomely, and introduce 
her to everybody. She will love to do things for 
mamma and for us ; nothing will be really changed, 
only everything will be changed. Instead of month- 
ly wages, I will give her a monthly allowance, as 
you used to give us, and she will register every- 
where as Miss Mayhew. She isn’t a jgoor cousin ; 
she’s a rich cousin.” 


FOURFOLD. 


379 


A light shot across her father’s eyes at her last 
words. This would be a perfect way out of his 
difficulty; his promise would be kept to his grand- 
father; the girl would have fourfold/’ with every 
advantage it could give her ; he would lose nothing^ 
she would gain all. He would be a freed man. 

In Tanzy’s hand the fourfold ” would increase 
rather than lessen ; the responsibility was shifted to 
her. Was the Merciful One helping him at last ? 
Might he hold up his head and breathe as he did 
when he was a boy ? 

0, papa/’ giving a spring into his arms, you 
splendid, darling, dearest papa ! ” 

Don’t choke me to death. I haven’t consented 
yet.” 

Yes, you have. I saw it in your eyes. Mam- 
ma come and help me thank him. It is the loveli- 
est thing he ever did for me. I am almost too hap- 

py-'' 

Don’t spoil her with sudden prosperity,” he 
warned. 

It shall not be sudden. I have thought that all 
out. She will simply consent to go with us. I 
shall give her money to pay her grandfather’s bills, 
and she will think it is advanced. Papa, I want 


380 


FOURFOLD, 


her to come to dinner to-night. I want her friends 
in Mansfield to know that she comes to our tahle.’^ 

^^ Very well/^ he assented; she has a pretty 
manner^ and a sweet, modest face, but don’t let 
your enthusiasm betray you. Do not let her feel 
her adoption too soon. Mamma, do you consent to 
all this crazy girl is talking about ? ” 

Yes,” said mamma, with a congratulatory glance 
at the crazy girl. I hope she will let her do my 
hair, for I like the touch of her fingers.” 

I feel as if it had happened all in a minute. I 
cannot believe it is all over. 1 hnoiv she will go.” 

‘‘ Let me ask her to dinner,” he replied. I’ll 
do it in a business fashion. I cannot trust your 
flighty brain.” 

‘‘ Well,’’ assented Tanzy, disappointedly, ‘‘ but 
I almost grudge you the pleasure.” 

She will like to think papa is willing,” said 
her mother, placidly. Tan, look at this ; I don’t 
like this darkest shade of red, do you ? ” 

‘‘ Tan,” cried her father, ‘‘ did I ever quote to 
you that prayer of Socrates : ‘ I pray thee, 0 God, 
that I may be beautiful within ’ ? ” 

He did not know about Christ,” was Tanzy’s 
answer. ‘‘ Oh, I wish he had.” 


FOURFOLD. 


381 


it too red? was her mother’s anxious ques- 
tion. The anxiety was assumed ; but Tanzy did not 
suspect it. 

No, it is not too red; ” Tanzy gave her decision, 
and then went to tell Gold that the citadel had sur- 
rendered. 

Helen,” said Helen’s husband, joyously, come 
here and kiss me. There’s a load oif my life.” 

Awake in the stillness that night, he remembered 
the Guest who invited himself to the house of the 
rich man who restored fourfold in the Roman fash- 
ion to him he had wronged ; if this Christ invited 
himself to his house, would he receive him joyfully ? 

He was afraid of him, as he turned upon his pil- 
low ; he knew this fourfold work was none of his ; 
but he had consented — would he not accept that ? 

And, then, not knowing any other, he prayed the 
prayer of Socrates. 

The name of Christ, the thought of Christ was 
not in his prayer ; he had no more understanding 
of the work and death and intercession of Christ 
than had this Greek philosopher, who prayed his 
prayer centuries before Christ was born into this 
human life. 


XXVI. 

THE FIRST PLACE. 

*^Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden.’ ^ 

Tanzy moved about the house feeling as if she 
stood outside of herself, holding on to herself ; for 
she must hold on. 

She could not tell her mother ; mamma never 
understood. 

This mother had let go her hold upon her children 
so long ago, they had forgotten that she ever had 
any, and in letting go this hold upon them, she 
grew every year as they outgrew her, more and 
distrustful of herself and more and more shy of 
them. 

Whenever she was alone, and she kept by her- 
self as much as she could, without rudeness, Tanzy 
took the life out of herself by dissecting herself; this 
being vivisection (which she did not at all believe 
in), it was painful. 

( 382 ) 


THE FIRST PLACE. 


383 


Some girls would go wild over your prospects 
and opportunities, Tan/^ said her father, coming 
upon her suddenly and finding her doing nothing, 
with a dismal look in her eyes. 

I fail to see what they are,” she answered, 
raising herself to speak. 

You will look back sometime and see,” he re- 
turned, patiently, for the look in her eyes touched 
him. 

Pale, listless, heavy-eyed ! Was this the spark- 
ling girl of ten days ago ? And she had her wish 
for Lucinda ! What ails the girl ? What could be 
poured into her life that was not in it ? 

If Daisy Fields and the Kenderdines had done 
this for her, it was well she would soon be off and 
breathing a healthier atmosphere. 

Nothing seemed to hurt Marigold. She was eager 
to get away ; she knew these Kenderdines were not 
good for her sister. 

To-day was Saturday; they were to sail next 
Wednesday ; only four days more of the Kender- 
dines. They would winter in Paris. Tanzy was 
young enough to shake off their influence ; and he 
would take precious care that such people never 
crossed her path again. 


384 


FOURFOLD. 


Winter has not comej Tan ! he went on, teaz- 
ingly, the temperature of hibernating animals sinks 
to ten degrees, and yours is almost down there 
What shall I do if you lose your beauty ? 

It has never done me any good.^^ 

It has done me good ! I cannot spare it. Pale- 
ness is not becoming to you. Will you drive with 
me this morning ? 

^^I expected to go over to Mrs, Kenderdine’s ; 
I have not seen her for three days.’’ 

‘^Then mamma must go. Dr. Stevens told me 
of a woman in Falkland who will be glad to take 
Nurse ; she is a widow, and has a pleasant room for 
her ; she vill be kind to her ; does the plan suit you? 

Does it suit Nurse ? ” 

I have not inquired. I am doing the best I 
can for her, and she does well to be grateful, if she 
may be taken care of the remainder of her life 
Does she expect the family to devote themselves 
to her ? She had been faithful, and she has been 
well paid. Don’t you put sentimental notions into 
her head. To Falkland she goes, or I wash my 
hands of her. I will break it to her myself.” 

Oh, no, papa, please let Gold or me. We can 
promise something to make it easier.” 


THE FIRST PLACE. 


385 


“ I want no promises. Do not speak of it to her. 
I will see her after I have seen the woman. Come 
here and kiss your father, Tan, and don’t let him 
see any more of this pale face.” 

She kissed him, sobbing, then ashamed of her- 
self, laughed and struggled to free herself from his 
arms. 

“ Mamma has to see about a frame for her prin- 
cess, too ; Gold will have to go, for she must have 
one of you to help her decide. What will take the 
place of the princess to her ? You must find some 
new work for her as soon as we are on the other 
side. Oh, that I could find one spot on this earth 
for you all to settle down in and be contented.” 

“ We are— at Daisy Fields,” Tanzy could not 
help saying; ‘‘mamma loves it as well as we 
do.” 

With something like impatience, he pushed her 
from him ; had he not the right to go somewhere to 
catch his breath, once in a while ? Daisy Fields 
was suffocating him. 

The load was not taken from his life ; a forgotten 
sin was not a forgiven sin. 

“ Papa, if I were dying, woidd you do one thing 
for me % ” 


25 


386 


FOURFOLD. 


You are not dying 5 you will live to be a crook- 
edj cross old woman.^^ 

Her courage failed^ as it had failed twice and 
thrice every day since she had told Marigold 
that she would plead with him about his opium ; and 
now when he laughingly put her off, she had no 
heart to speak of it ; she knew he would be sternly 
angry, and then, what could she say that Gold had 
not said ? He did not love her any better than he 
loved Gold. They would go on, and on, around the 
world, and around the world, and never be contented 
anywhere, and mamma would do her fancy work, 
and papa would read and take opium, and never let 
them live their own life. He would always be get- 
ting them away from the Kenderdines or some one 
else ; still, what good had the Kenderdines done her ? 
If she might go back to that Sunday before she had 
gone over to them — ^but, then — how much dearer 
and sweeter everything was because God cared for 
her and everything that happened to her. And all 
her trouble now was because he did not have the 
first place in her heart. If he had the first place — 
she had not lost him — she would be singing like the 
birds this perfect morning. 

Her father had left her ; she stood, as he found 


THE FIRST PLACE, 


387 


her, doing nothing, listless, heavy-eyed, despairing. 
There was one question she must ask Mrs. Kender- 
dine ; what it was that she must have to fit her for 
work ; for now, work was all she could have, or de- 
sired to have. That must be in the world some- 
where. There would not be danger in that ; that 
would not push itself into the first place. 

Tanzy,^^ called her mother from the bay win- 
dow, where she was putting the finishing touches to 
her princess. 

I think I want a very deep frame, she said, 
when Tanzy appeared. 

Deep and dark, I would have. Mamma, it is a 
success. I congratulate you.’^ 

My first one, then,^^ half in jest, half in earnest. 

No ; Gold and I are your first ; you used to 
make pictures out of us, dressing us. Nurse says. 
May Cinda go with you this morning? She has 
her grandfather^s affairs to attend to. I gave her 
the money yesterday. I like to have her friends 
see her as one of us.’^ 

Oh, yes, certainly. Papa says you are going 
to Mrs. Kenderdine^s. Don’t stay long.” 

I cannot, if you all go. I must stay with poor 
Nurse. Mary Ann is cross to her, and Cook is 


388 


FOURFOLD, 


rough. Mamma, donH let that woman in Falkland 
take her unless she is gentle. You will know if 
she is gentle. Let Marigold talk to her and see the 
room.^^ 

‘‘ Oh, yes ; I don^t want to be bothered. My 
frame is all I can attend to. If I can’t get it in 
Falkland, papa says he will drive on to some large 
town, where I can surely get it. I must see it 
framed and hung before I go. I wish I could take 
it. I think it must be very pleasant to have a 
home and have all your own things around you all 
the time.” 

She did not sigh ; she seldom sighed. 

Gold and I are your own things,” comforted 
Tanzy, we will always stay around you all the 
time. And Cinda belongs to us, now.” 

A listener, not seeing to whom Tanzy spoke, 
would have believed her speaking to a child. 

Miss Tanzy,” said Lucinda, when she was ready 
for the drive, in a becoming brown dress with hat 
and gloves to match that Tanzy had given her, I 
would like to buy something for Auntie before I 
go — I am so rich — and for Maria. It’s easy to for- 
give Maria, now. She has been wishing for ruffles 
and ribbons. Would it be very extravagant I ” 


THE FIRST PLACE, 


389 


Not very/^ said Tanzy, smiling at the small 
perplexity. Get anything for yourself that you 
like. Your allowance is in my hands, now, and I 
am to be the judge. I shall not be jealous if you 
make yourself look prettier than I do.^^ 

I know how to be economical.^^ 

You do not need to be. I shall not be satisfied 
if you lack anything ; you must have everything I 
have if you belong to me. And you do / you have 
given yourself to me.^^ 

Then Tanzy stopped herself, fearing her enthu- 
siasm was too sudden for the child of her adoption. 
Lucinda’s grateful surprise was all in her eyes. 
Tanzy said she had the most expressive eyes she 
ever saw. 

I think you make a lovelier cousin than if you 
had been born at Daisy Fields. And I shouldn’t 
wonder if you are happier.” 

I coiildnH be happier,” said Lucinda, her voice 
as expressive as her eyes ; you must keep me 
humble.” 

Yesterday, in her pastor’s study, Lucinda had 
told him of her changed position at Daisy Fields : 

I am almost like one of them. It is like a fairy 


390 


FOURFOLD. 


story ; I cannot understand it ; I wanted to be faith- 
ful, and the reward is more than I can think.^‘ 
You are grateful, you are faithful ; now learn 
humility/^ he said, and no prosperity can harm 
you/^ 


XXVII. 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING. 

If wishes were horses then beggars might ride.^^ 

Mrs. Kenderdine lay in her hammock ; Mar- 
garet had cuddled her in and wrapped a bright 
afghan about her ; with her eyes closed she was far 
away in her husband^s land, and in his home, watch- 
ing him as he wrote in his study, and seeing his 
face as he lifted it to speak to some dark, white- 
turbaned interrupter ; and then she saw Agnes, not 
small like Margaret, but tall and well-proportioned, in 
the white muslin, with pink spots (that she had writ- 
ten about, enclosing two or three inches for her mother 
to touch and think of) sitting back from the veran- 
dah, listening to the story of the dusky mother who 
had come to her for comfort. Agnes would say — 
what would she say ? what she had heard her speak 
— was her child taking up her work where she had 
left off? But how could she do her whole day^s 

work with but half a day^s strength? Adapting 

( 391 ) 


392 


FOURFOLD. 


Milton’s plaint she comforted herself: Does God 
exact day-labor strength denied? ” Her face had a 
withered look this morning^ withered and somewhat 
worried ; to Margaret it was pitiful and very pa- 
tient. She almost wished Agnes had not sent that 
piece of pink and white muslin. It was in her fingers 
hidden away imder the afghan; now and then she 
had kissed it. 

Mother, there’s Tanzy,” exclaimed Margaret, 
stepping out at a window. 

The withered look slipped off her face like a 
veil pushed aside ; the color came faintly ; Marga- 
ret was satisfied to leave them together. 

Tanzy’s lips brought deeper color to the lips she 
touched ; the kiss was not quite as full and frank as 
that last time ; Tanzy was shy under her eyes. 

I’ve been so busy,” was Tanzy’s apology, but 
I’ve been thinking of you.” 

Margaret’s chair was near the hammock ; Tanzy 
pushed it nearer, and caught at the twisted ropes as 
she talked. 

I told you about Cinda, and what was in my 
heart to do. It’s done. Some of it, most of it; but 
she only has glimpses now and then. Are you glad, 
Mrs. Kenderdine ? ” 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING, 


393 


V ery glad. You will not be disappointed. Cin- 
da is true.’^ 

My only fear is that she will be disappointed in 
me. I am so full of faults.’^ 

We have a way in this world of loving faults 
and all.’^ 

Tanzy^s eyes met hers fully ; then the girPs were 
dropped with a deep flush of some secret conscious- 
ness. 

It is not the loving that makes the heart ache ; 
it is the not loving enough. If I loved Agnes better, 
I should not so long for her this morning. I should 
be too glad for her, that her life is so complete and 
completed.^^ 

‘‘ But we do not like to have people we love, hap- 
py away from us,^’ faltered Tanzy. 

^^Not even in Heaven, sometimes. We human 
folks are very queer. Human nature is very 
human.^’ 

Tanzy laughed : and then she spoke more easily. 

As I was packing my books, my padded Aurora 
Leighj and white kid edition of Gold Dusty papa said 
he would like to make my life an edition de luxe. 
But he cannot ; unless I am an angel. I think I 
like to be human better, if it is so hard. Susie Hart- 


V.; 


394 


FOURFOLD. 


well gave me my Gold Dust. Bess had one that I 
admired. Do you think Bess is so much like 
Susie ? she nerved herself to ask. 

^^Not strong like her ; but very sweet. She is 
very loving, and easily influenced. I am glad she is 
willing to see Mark ; that they are willing to see 
each other. I had a letter from him this morning. 
He writes that she turned very white when she saw 
him ; for a moment he could not believe that Susie 
had not come back to him. They both loved Susie 
better than any one else in the world. They are 
both affectionate and impulsive.^^ 

^^Yes/^ assented Tanzy, not knowing that she 
spoke at all. And then, not bitterly, but wonder- 
ingly, why did he not go to her before ? 

‘‘ Ah, why not ? echoed Mrs. Kenderdine, but 
not aloud. 

‘‘ I suppose he was interested in his patient,’^ said 
Tanzy. He most certainly was — as was very 
natural.^^ 

^^Mrs. Kenderdine.” Tanzy thought she had 
been interesting herself in the colors of the af- 
ghan. Somewhere in it she found the question 
she had come to ask. ^^You have not told me, 
and I have not within myself, discovered, what 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING, 


395 


it is that must come before I do my work.^^ 
I think you know.’^ 

I do not. I do not think I fully know what a 
Christian is.^^ 

Paul was a Christian. John was a Christian.^^ 
But they were not like us.^^ 

How do you know ? 

'know. They were not selfish and jealous, and 
disobedient, and quick-tempered, and deceitful. I 
feel as if I deceive, papa. 

A Christian growing from such small begin- 
nings as you find in yourself, as I find in myself, as 
Paul found in himself, grows to know Jesus Christ 
more intimately than he knows any other being in 
the imiverse ; who understands him so well that he 
knows exactly what he would have him do, and 
who loves him so well that he cannot do anything 
he would not have him do. That is consecration. 
That is the preparation for service.’^ 

But, oh, how can I ever get up to that ? cried 
Tanzy, despairingly. That is high above all I 
can ever be.^^ 

^^Ever^ro^^; to be?’^ questioned Mrs. Kender- 
dine. 

In this life, yes,’^ was the energetic reply. 


396 


FOURFOLD, 


^^Then you will have it in Heaven.^^ 

But I would like some of it now/^ 

You can pray for that, hoping for it ; it is the 
natural end of growing in grace. Study Christ, his 
life, his words, everything he did ; absorb his life 
as the tiny blade of corn absorbs the sunlight ; live 
in him, live with him ; have no other life but his 
life, do not live at all apart from him.’’ 

But I am the tiniest blade in the whole field.” 

The sunlight shines all around the tiniest blade. 
Be happy, be obedient, and grow. Do not worry 
about your growing. Forget it.” 

Do you think I show a little bit of green life ? ” 
was the earnest, tearful inquiry. 

I see it. God sees more than I do.” 

But, Mrs. Kenderdine, I have everything to 
hinder.” 

And everything to help. You have the word 
of God, the will of God, the Spirit of God ; you have 
his Spirit within you, and that is more powerful 
than anything outside of you. I am not afraid of 
anything to hinder you as long as you are willing^ 
“ I know I am willing,” Tanzy replied, with her 
usual positiveness. 

“ And obedient.” 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING. 


397 


I desire to be,” with less insistence. 

Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” 

Then perhaps I shall find some work. You do 
not know how eager I am for work. I was tired to 
death of my life before I knew you and Margaret. 
It was so luxurious, what papa calls luxmrious, that 
I longed for something hard. I used to tell Gold 
that I would run away and be poor, and have some- 
thing to work for. I was sorry to be a girl. I 
wanted to be a boy and have the world made for 
me. Nothing seemed made for me but to enjoy life. 
If my life were happiness, I wanted to be unhappy, 
and when papa said I was ungrateful, and the Boim- 
tiful Giver would punish me, I almost wanted to be 
punished. But he has not punished me.” 

Was he punishing her now by taking Mark Ken- 
derdine away ? Oh, if she might only ask ! 

“ I suppose my life should look bright to me,” she 
vmnt on, rather drearily, if papa were well — ^if he 
would — if he were as happy as he pretends, it would 
make such a difference to Gold and me. It has 
done some good to come to Daisy Fields this sum- 
mer. We found Cinda. I suppose you think I am 
too impulsive about her ; that I should have tested 
her ; but she is pure gold, she did not need long 


398 


FOURFOLD. 


testing. I suppose papa thinks it one of my freaks, 
and I never shall cease to wonder at his willingness. 
Gold was sweet about it, too. You must think of 
me as very happy 

In your sheltered life ; with so much love about 
you.’^ 

What may I think about you and Margaret ? 

We have no plan. Something good will happen 
to us, it always does.^^ 

^^May Margaret go home with me a little while ? 
Can you spare her? She has not been in our 
rooms. I want to give her my kitten, if it will not 
trouble you. She will nestle up to you, and purr 
about me.^^ 

Margaret loves your home. She is sorry stran- 
gers must come into it.^^ 

In winter it is as pleasant as in summer. I re- 
member one winter in it. But the furnace is out of 
order now, and only summer curtains are up, and 
summer carpets down. I would like you to see 
poor mammals princess. She will miss it. But 
she will find some new kind of work. She wishes 
Gold and I loved fancy work. Gold will study lan- 
guages. I shall study people. What would you 
like my work to be ? 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING, 


399 


As usual when she was moved, Tanzy spoke in 
rapid, short sentences. 

‘‘ I do not know ; I want it to grow from out the 
inside of you.’^ 

As painting does, and music, and poetry. I 
haven’t any talent ; I have only tastes, and some 
of them are cultivated. I think I would like to 
heep TfiomeP 

St. Paul would approve of that.” 

And he had that preparation for work — what is 
the name of it ? ” 

Consecration ? ” 

Yes. I like that. Separating from everything 
else and giving one’s self to Jesus Christ, like those 
men whom he called and chose. I could not be a 
nun and shut myself up ; I want to be consecrated 
out in the world where people are and where work 
is. Agnes is consecrated.” 

I believe she is.” , 

Could one be, and keep house ? Is that real- 
work ? ” 

Mary and Martha kept house at Beth- 
any.” 

But we haven’t any house except Daisy Fields ! ” 

And Margaret and I have no permanent house. 


400 


FOURFOLD. 


yet we ^keep house’ wherever we can. So can 
you.” 

Over Tanzy’s face passed a swift light ; in an in- 
stant it was gone. 

It could never, never be ! Why did she have to 
think of it to be tantalized? 

I’m always thinking of things ! ” she exclaimed, 
impatiently. I wish I wouldn’t. But, oh, how I 
wish I could give Daisy Fields to you and Marga- 
ret, until we come back ! ” 

Mrs. Kenderdine smiled. That was Margaret’s 
air castle. 

I should feel as if I were in a palace.” 

I will not think of it again,” decided Tanzy, 
resolutely. I shall get wild again, as I did about 
Cinda. I will call Margaret ; we will not stay long. 
You should have any rooms you choose — there, I 
am thinking of it again,” she said, laughing. Mar- 
garet ! Margaret 1 ”• she called. 

As Margaret appeared in her kitchen apron with 
flour on her hands, and a keeping-house air from 
top to toe, Tanzy coaxed, seizing her about the 
waist : 

Come over home with me ! I wish to take you 
into every room ; you must know all about dear 


ANOTHER CRAZY THING, 


401 


Daisy Fields. And see mamma’s princess ! Mam- 
ma is coming to see you, Mrs. Kenderdine, before 
we go ; she says she must thank you for being so 
kind to her naughty girl.” 

She doesn’t know how I will miss her naughty 
girl.” 

2C 


XXVIII. 


AT DAYBREAK. 

Because the way is short, I thank Thee, God 

The girls went off in high spirits ; Mrs. Kender- 
dine listened to their laughing voices until the sound 
was lost in the upper rooms of Daisy Fields. 

She had been blue herself this morning ] as 
soon as she awoke, she called Margaret to her, to 
tell her that she must not mind if she were ‘‘ not 
cheerful to-day ; it required effort, and she was 
not strong enough for the effort. 

Margaret’s energetic Nonsense ” brought a smile 
to her eyes that lasted some time. 

‘‘ I am so idle in the Lord’s vineyard,” had been 
her waking thought. So idle, with her life so 
crowded with plans and purposes. And yet she 
had no real fear that she would be allowed to fall in- 
to unblessed idleness. 

‘‘ If the Lord takes me away from my work, or 

my work away from me,” she wrote to her husband 
( 402 ) 


AT DAYBREAK. 


403 


yesterday, it must be for a fuller blessing on some 
worker or some work. His work, like bis will, can- 
not fail to be done. How far off those strange 
times seem when our three children were under four 
years of age, and with one ayah so inexperienced, 
and the other so deceitful, and baby so often 
ill (dear little Mark), and after a night of wake- 
fulness I would go into the seminary and teach two 
hours. I do not quite wish our girls to do that. 
Send me a flower from Markus little grave.^^ 

The unshed tears were near her eyes when she 
awoke. Tanzy would not have believed that Mrs. 
Kenderdine was ever depressed or discouraged. 

“ Mother was so blue before you came,” Mar- 
garet confided to her, ‘‘ I was about to come for 
you.” 

I am glad,” was Tanzy’s quick reply, ‘‘ but I 
can^t believe it. Now I don^t feel so wicked ! Are 
you ever blue ? ” 

^^Not when mother is awake,” said Margaret, 
with a break in her voice. ^^Agnes and I were like 
you and Marigold.” 

It doesn’t seem cried Tanzy, passion- 

ately. 

“ What doesn’t ? ” 


404 


FOURFOLD. 


For you four to be so apart ! 

I know a girl who is married in Chicago, and 
her sister married a Swedish count and lives in 
Sweden. Their father and mother are in London. 
What do you think of that ? Is that right ? 

They chose to do it.^^ 

As if we did not ! Do you think we are com- 
pelled f Margaret asked, with a flash as quick as 
Tanzy’s own. 

“ You do it because you think it is right, and you 
must,^^ persisted Tanzy. 

“ That girl stays in Sweden with her husband be- 
cause it is right, and she must.^^ 

“ But that is natural^ 

Then Margaret laughed. 

Can you not imderstand how you could love 
some one well enough to leave Grold and your moth- 
er and go to India or Sweden ? 

Yes, she could understand that. 

Can you understand, then, how you could love 
strong enough to have your husband leave you and 
stay away ? Would you stay in India and let him 
come here to Gold, to save her life — stay one year 
or five V’ 

Yes, she knew she loved Gold well enough to do that. 


AT DAYBREAIC. 


405 


Is that all the love you understand ? 

^^Yes, Margaret, I think it is/^ said Tanzy, 
thoughtfully. I do not understand at all how your 
mother gives your father up.^^ 

“ I do. I know how she gives him up, because I 
see her suffer.” Margaret thought she was learning 
something that came nearer home still, in giving up 
since Mark went away ; Mark, brother, cousin, 
friend and almost lover — ^whom she knew now in 
these desolate days that she loved better than she 
loved her mother. And yet — she could not under- 
stand how her suffering made her hard and unfor- 
giving towards Tanzy; for what right had this 
strange girl even to suffer for his sake ? That was 
her right. 

The tour of the rooms was made ; Margaret lin- 
gered in each beautiful room, examining and admir- 
ing to Tanzy^s hearths content. 

Now Margaret would know how she loved Daisy 
Fields. 

Fapa and mamma show me all the places where 
they used to play, and where they used to read to- 
gether, and where they found out they could not do 
without each other. Mamma would die if he should 
go away, like your father. They have not been sep- 


406 


FOURFOLD. 


arated twenty-four hours at one time since they 
were married/^ 

Is that your ideal of married life ? 

Tanzy thought, and then she said, Yes,’^ very 
decidedly. I think they should so give themselves 
to each other that one should not have a thought the 
other did not share.^^ 

Margaret laughed again ; Tanzy’s ideal seemed 
so young to her ; she had outgrown that long 
ago. 

I would almost like to be Cinda, and go abroad 
with you,^^ she said, as they stood in Tanzy’s dressing- 
room. 

Perhaps you will find us on your way to India.^^ 
Margaret could not reply; that would not be 
while her mother was with her. 

I am staying too long ; you have allured me — I 
wonder if I ever could get tired of your home.^^ 

The laughing voices were coming to her again ; 
Mrs. Kenderdine brushed the last tear away, put the 
bit of pink and white reminder of Agnes into 
her book, and was ready to listen and respond to 
any amount of light talk. But Tanzy was ready 
for something serious. It might be the last oppor- 
tunity for a long talk ; next week would be full of 


AT DAYBREAJC, 


407 


business. They expected to leave Daisy Fields 
Tuesday morning, spend the night in a hotel in New 
York, and sail the next day. 

Next Saturday morning ! I do not like to think 
of it. I never left so much behind me, before,’^ 
Then she hurried herself into explaining that she 
and Gold would miss poor Nurse so much. 

This is only a little round world, said Mrs. 
Kenderdine. I fly out to India and back so often 
that the journey seems like nothing.^^ 

But that is so unsatisfactory.^^ 

^^It gets to be a great deal — ^you know, dear, 
that when two people are with God, they cannot be 
far apart.^^ 

But poor Tanzy did not feel that ; she only felt 
her heart-ache, and home-sickness, and the long dis- 
tance between. 

Mrs Kenderdine, about my work — I feel so 
confused about it. I do not know at all what to 
do.'' 

Margaret wondered what her mother would tell 
her to do ; she was ready to tell her about Agnes' 
girls' school. She might make pretty things for re- 
wards ; and they always needed money. Why, 
there was everything to do ! 


408 


FOURFOLD, 


The householder in the Lord^s story — ^how he 
loved to tell stories ! — went out early in the morning 
to hire laborers to go into his vineyard. The only 
command was^ ‘ Go.^ He did not tell them what 
they must do.^’ 

In a vineyard they would know/^ said Tanzy. 

They would know they were not to stand and 
watch or walk around and have a good time, even 
if the vineyard were filled with beautiful things, or 
to eat and be satisfied ! 

But they wouldn^t know exactly what they were 
to do,^^ Tanzy objected. “ I suppose there is hard 
work and easy work.’’ 

And work for the learner, and work for the 
experienced. I think these laborers must have 
found themselves fitted for something. They had to 
be willing and keep their eyes open. Then suppose 
you had been sent into that vineyard, what would 
common sense lead you to do ? ” 

‘‘ I should look around and see what was to be 
done, and I hope I should do the first thing I saw 
to be done,” said Tanzy, energetically. 

‘‘ When the even was come the steward called 
the laborers to give them their hire. One day’s 
work at a time, you see. Do the first thing, a day 


AT DAYBREAI^. 


409 


at a time, and the Lord of the Vineyard will be sat- 
isfied with you/^ _ 

Where is the vineyard ? questioned Tanzy. * 
Just where you are when you are called. Yours 
has been Daisy Fields. Dear child, your work is 
already begim, you have been working day after 
day. Wherever he puts you, even for one day, 
there is your work for the day. Whatever you do, 
do it for him, and then it will not matter — ^to him, 
whether it be something for your mother, or your 
father, for the person next to you, or for somebody 
on the other side of the world.^^ 

Does he care for such things ? Does he notice 
them ? 

What is the smallest thing you can do for any 
one ? 

^^Griving ? Her first thought was giving. ^^The 
least money ? Why, a penny, I suppose.^^ 

He noticed two mites once ; two mites make a 
farthing. And he speaks of a cup of cold 
water.^^ 

‘‘A sparrow, a cup of cold water, and a farthing, 
repeated Tanzy ; my service is all like such 
things.^^ 

After a moment, Mrs. Kenderdine said : I may 


410 


FOURFOLD, 


not hear you play and sing again. Will you go in 
and sing and play all you know ? 

• All I know/^ laughed Tanzy ; you would beg 
me to stop.^^ 

She had played an hour, when Margaret, who had 
been busy somewhere about the house, went out to 
her mother. 

Mother, donH be frightened,’^ she began, quietly. 

You must tell Tanzy. Cinda came to the door 
and found me in the hall. They were in Falkland — 
Gold and Mrs. Henderson and Cinda were in a 
store, and Mr. Henderson was in the carriage alone. 
He had sent the coachman on an errand, and while 
Mr. Henderson was holding the horses — Cinda 
doesn’t know what happened, but one of them got 
frightened, and started off, and then both ran away 
and he was thrown out. He was unconscious, and 
they have taken him to Dr. Stevens’ house. Mrs. 
Henderson fainted, and Gold is with her. The doc- 
tor told Cinda to come for Tanzy. He had not 
moved or spoken when Cinda left. The doctor’s 
boy brought Cinda. She is very self-controlled, 
but you must tell poor Tanzy. Just hear her play- 
ing a march ! Mother, you are so brave, and you 
have so much faith, I know you can do it.” 


AT DAYBREAK. 


411 


With a laugh Tanzy sprang through the window 
out on the piazza. 

Oh, donH laugh ! cried Margaret, catching her 
with both arms. Tanzy, darling, God knows all 
about it. Your father is hurt and has sent for you 
to come.^’ 

Hurt!’^ repeated Tanzy, with dilated eyes. 

And then Lucinda came, and in a few unexcited 
words told the story of the runaway and the acci- 
dent. 

‘‘ Gold is not hurt, nor your mother. 

‘‘ But poor papa ! Did he send for me ? I know 
he wants to see me. He always wants us all if the 
least thing is the matter. Did he seem much 
frightened ? He is so afraid of pain.’^ 

evaded Lucinda, ^^come home a few mo- 
ments and I will tell you all about it. I must stay 
here. He must have a room fixed down-stairs.’^ 

Is he so bad as that ! ” she asked, with an 
alarm that she sought to keep herself from feeling. 

But her throat was so dry that the words were 
husky and almost inaudible. 

Tell me aK, Cinda. I must know all,” she cried, 
more clearly; ^Gs he — is he — ” 

No, oh, no ; he is only hurt. But he was un- 


412 


FOURFOLD. 


conscious. You must tell me what you want done 
before he comes.^^ 

He will not sleep down-stairs, even for one 
night/’ said Tanzy, as they were hurrying across 
the street. He likes his own room best. Is his 
leg broken ? Or any ribs ? Or is it his back ? 

The doctors did not know. He did not even 
groan. Do not let that boy talk to you.^’ 

Cook will be frightened. Are the horses 
caught ? ’’ 

Oh, yes. They were not hurt ! 

Don’t let Nurse know,” said Tanzy, still in her 
dry voice. I did norlook at Mrs. Kenderdine t I 
hope she wasn’t too much startled. How is ma- 
ma ? ” 

She fainted when she saw him. Gold has her 
up-stairs in Mrs. Stevens’ bedroom. She spoke be- 
fore I came away. Your father is in the doctor’s 
office ; two other doctors are there. Let me pack 
up some things. You may stay over to-mor 
row.” 

Not only over to-morrow, but Monday and Tues- 
day. They were all with him, his wife holding his 
hand ; Marigold and Tanzy standing together ; he 
was still in the doctor’s office ; he knew them all, 


AT DAYBREAK. 


413 


and moaned whenever his wife moved from his 
side. 

At daybreak, on Wednesday, Marigold led her 
mother away. He had, indeed, left Daisy Fields. 
He would never come back again. 


XXIX. 

MES. KENDERDINE’s STORY. 

“ Thy hands have made me and fashioned me. Give me un- 
derstanding.” 

I AM SO tired of myself/’ cried Tanzy, in despair, 

Mrs. Kenderdine, I know I shall run away, some 
day.” 

I wish you would/’ was the reply, I wish you 
would run away from yourself.” 

“ Gold is always with mamma, now-a-days ; they 
have talks together, and I feel left out ; but she 
grows stronger by the day, and she says it is Gold’s 
nursing. Cinda is always busy — ^with poor Nurse, 
who cannot sit up yet, or about something, and I 
feel so left out of everything. I do not believe any- 
body loves me.” 

And you do not even love yourself!” with a 
smile at her rueful face ; you do have a doleful 
time. Child, you are too much with yourself. Sup- 
pose it were possible for you to know some person 
( 414 ) 


MJ^S. KENDERDINE^ S STORY, 415 

as intimately as you know yourself ; all her down- 
sitting, and up-rising, every secret fault, every hid- 
den motive ; suppose you were with her night and 
day, and all day long, would you not be weary of 
such constant and close companionship ? Would 
not her absence be a refreshing change to your 
spirit ? In the same way, how can you but become 
weary of your own personality ? There is nothing 
imexpected in yourself, and it is the unexpected 
that keeps alive one’s interest. The sameness of 
your inner self, and your outer self, wearies you. I 
have been so tired of myself, that I have been in a 
frenzy to get away from myself. Now if you wish 
to live on the most satisfying terms with any friend, 
do not see too much of her ; and if you wish to live 
on the most satisfying terms with yourself, give 
yourself changes from yourself. Do not take your- 
self with you everywhere you go ; it may be a re- 
freshing change to come back and find yourself.’^ 
Tanzy listened with intense earnestness. 

Mamma is finding new things to live for — I did 
not think she could. She says Gold and I may 
have a houseful of friends this winter. She wishes 
Daisy Fields to be the happiest home in the world. 
It is to Cinda. And to Nurse. And to her and 


416 


FOURFOLD, 


Gold. ^ am the lamb outside the fold ; I prowl 
around outside, and even wish a wolf would catch 
me and eat me up.^^ 

I would like to be the wolf.^^ 

I wish you would — and carry me off.^^ 

There was a branch of September golden-rod in 
Tanzy’s hand ; she had been roaming over the fields 
with Lucinda. The fire in the cunning little stove 
had died down to coals, but the chamber was warm ; 
in its western window was the glow of the sunset. 
It was a week since Mrs. Kenderdine had stepped 
outside her chamber door. She had written to her 
husband that she was losing strength, and dreaded 
the winter. Margaret had written to Mark asking 
him to come to her mother ; he was in Philadelphia 
with the Hartwells. 

In answer to Margaret’s telegram, he had 
come to Mansfield on the day of the funeral at Daisy 
Fields ; he had no opportunity to speak to the girls, 
they were with their mother, and did not leave her 
to go to the churchyard. He left a message for 
Tanzy with Mrs. Kenderdine, and the next day re- 
joined his friends at Lake George. Tanzy had not 
spoken his name to Mrs. Kenderdine or Margaret. 

She told herself that she had stayed at Daisy 


MRS. KENDERDINE'S STORY. 


417 


Fields as she had wished, long enough. to see the 
end of something. 

‘^Mrs. Kenderdine/^ breaking a silence, does 
God care for all our prayers ? 

So much so that he does the very best with 
them ; he remembers them even when we outgrow 
them.’^ 

Outgrow them f ^ Tanzy repeated. 

‘‘ Lucinda^s grandfather might have prayed once: 
^ Lord, help me to find pebbles.^ Suppose his right 
mind had been given him, would he not have out- 
grown that prayer ? I prayed for a winter in Florida 
— for this winter — now I do not ask it. I am wait- 
ing for something better. The report of a friend is 
not encouraging. I cannot wish for it wisely. In 
gaining knowledge I have- outgrown that prayer.^ 

Yes,^^ said Tanzy, but everything is not like 
pebbles and Florida.’^ 

Only this morning I found a part of a poem— 
I think it must be a part. I cut it out and put it in 
this book I chanced to be reading. I expect to send 
it to my husband.’^ 

The paper fluttered in Tanzy^s fingers, as she 
read : 


27 


418 


FOURFOLD. 


Twas long ago 

When I was young. Alas ! I did not know 
A better way. I said it must be so, 

Or God cannot be good. 

Alas, alas, my poor, weak, human pride ! 

How differently would I have quickly cried, 

If I had understood. 

And now I bear 

A thankful heart for that unanswered prayer; 

And so I think it will be, when, up there, 

Where all is known. 

We look upon the things we longed for so, 

And see how little they were worth. 

How soon they were outgrown.” 

But it isn’t soon now/’ she faltered, it seems 
ages.’’ 

If we grew faster it would be sooner, wouldn’t 
it ? If we knew aU God knows, the time would be 
now.” 

But we can’t ; he doesn’t tell us.” 

Perhaps we do not learn all we may ; if I had 
asked my friend before, about Florida, I should have 
known that it was not the best place for me. I 
prayed without waiting to learn.” 

But suppose nobody can tell you.” 

Then wait till God tells you. Meanwhile, trust 
" him.” 

And suffer,” said Tanzy, huskily. 

We must suffer, sometimes.” 


MRS. KENDERDINE'S STORY. 


419 


I shouldn’t think he would like it. I should 
think he would rather we would be happy.” 

Christ suffered — sometimes.” 

^^But he did not make mistakes. He did not 
think something was true when it was not.” 

We are not wise. We learn wisdom in mak- 
ing mistakes. A mistake, a wrong way of taking, 
you see — and through this wrong way we learn to 
take it right next time. We think it is the wrong 
way ; instead it is God’s right way for us to learn 
wisdom.” 

^^But,” — Tanzy’s face was bent over her bunch of 
golden-rod, — it makes one so humiliated to make 
mistakes. It hurts so hard.” 

The words filled Mrs. Kenderdine’s eyes ; she 
knew how mistakes hurt so hard. 

Tanzy, I must tell you a story. I am a mid- 
dle-aged woman and I have never told it. It hurt 
so, I couldn’t. I’ve been waiting ; had my girls had 
need of it I should have brought myself to do it. It 
was such a wrong, wrong way of taking one of 
God’s providences. I was older than you. One 
winter in a house where I was visiting, I met a 
gentleman.” 


420 


FOURFOLD, 


Tanzy^s eyes were inspiration enough for all Mrs. 
Kenderdine had to tell. 

I had had a fall and was kept in the house all 
winter. His home was across the street; he had 
private classes in Greek, Latin and German, and a 
boy in the house had a Greek and Latin hour every 
day, and my girl friend had a German lesson three 
times a week. 

It was more convenient for him to come to the 
house. Having a taste and some knowledge in his 
pursuits, he soon came to take some interest in me 
and liked me to be present at his lessons. It was 
a great treat to me. 

I used to lie on the sofa and watch him and 
listen. He was very handsome, but so much of a 
bookworm, that he was shy and awkward, and never 
talked about anything but the lessons. But that 
was more than enough for me. Being so shut in 
and rather lonely, how I watched for his coming. 

Mr. Kenderdine came often, he was a cousin 
of the house. But I never thought of him, or cared 
to hear him talk. Sometimes I hurried away when 
I heard his ring. In everything he seemed to me 
the reverse of the bookworm. 

I loved him before I knew it ; I was frightened 


MRS. KENDERDINE^S STORY. 


421 


when I knew it. And I prayed to God to make him 
love me. And I asked God if he were answering 
my prayer^ to make this silent^ shy man show it by 
his attentions to me. 

‘‘ The very next day I thought my prayer began 
to be answered; for he brought me a book I had 
spoken of— with my name written in it.’’ 

That was an answer; wasn’t it I ” 

^^*1 thought so. I watched for other answers. 
They came. Not large things, but in little usual 
ways. Now I can look back and see that he could 
not very well have avoided doing exactly what he 
did do. But I took every single one of them as my 
special answer. Now it seems to me that I was be- 
reft of common sense. 

He had to come, he was engaged to come and 
paid for it. But I believed that he came for my 
sake, that he tarried after the lesson for my sake. 
Perhaps he did. He may have had a warm friend- 
liness for me. 

If Mr. Kenderdine were in the house at the same 
hour, I would not see him ; I stayed, under some 
pretence, for the German or Latin lesson. My en- 
thusiasm, infatuation — my silly -wise foolishness 
went on all one year, and then my eyes were rudely 


422 


FOURFOLD. 


opened. In the mean time I refused Mark Kender- 
dine.’^ 

Oh, how co'iild you ! exclaimed Tanzy, think- 
ing only of the father Margaret was proud of. 

Because I did not see him. I had no heart for 
anything but the mistake I was suffering through. 
You can guess how I suffered. You can guess how 
I suffered when I learned that he was engaged — 
engaged to a girl that I had never heard him men- 
tion, that I did not know he knew. I think he 
knew my secret and was very sorry for me. 

But how did you bear it ? asked Tanzy, in a 
smothered voice. 

It took me to God as nothing ever had done. 
It was the sweetest trial I ever had. It made me 
ready for my husband, it made me ready for my 
work. I was taught a hundred lessons. It lasted 
three years ; every hour hurt, and was a discipline.’^ 

I should die before three years,” cried Tanzy, 
passionately. Is that an outgrown prayer ? ” 

It certainly is. Oh, how different, and so much 
more blessed my life has been ! I count that wrong 
way of taking God’s providence one of my joyful 
blessings. I had no consolation but himself, and he 
gave it to me abundantly.” 


MRS. KENDERDINE^S STORY. 


423 


Still, I don’t see how you lived through it,” 
Tanzy persisted. I couldn’t breathe through 
three years of it.” 

did not see at the time. Mr. Kenderdine 
loved me silently and patiently through it all. It 
was a hard three years.” 

Was it your fault ? ” demanded Tanzy, in her 
young indignation, blaming somebody. 

Whose fault was it ? ” with gentle rebuke. 

Didn’t he ever act as though he cared for you 
— a little bit?” asked Tanzy, huskily and hur- 
riedly. 

I thought so at the time ; I know it, now, when 
I remember some words he spoke. But he was sim- 
ply my friend ^ friendship did not mean much to 
him ; it was my very life to me.” 

Was that your fault ? ” Tanzy demanded, fierce- 
ly, with a blaze in her eyes. 

I was not wise, I did not see with clear eyes.” 

I think he was wrong,” insisted the girl, biting 
off a plume of golden rod. 

In some measure; but he did not understand. 
He was flattered and pleased and selfish.” 

“ Selfish ! ” repeated Tanzy, scornfully. 

Mistakes are often made through nobody’s fault. 


424 


FOURFOLD. 


Wrongs are done when every one means right. He 
was not unselfish enough to see any one clearly — ex*- 
cepting himself.^^ 

“Then he wasn’t worth loving/’ said Tanzy, who 
did not believe in loving any one who was not worth 
loving. 

“ I felt that; at timeS; and then my pride was hurt. 
I was hurt when I found I had a worshipful love 
for one who seems now so very commonplace.” 

“Pride helpSj^ Tanzy said, with a proud quiver 
of the lips. 

“ God helps/’ was the low, sweet reply. 

“ You are very good to tell me. If such things 
helped every girl so I could imderstand why they 
were allowed to happen.” 

“ NoW; whose fault is it if they do not ? ” 

“ Can anybody have it made so good ? ” asked 
Tanzy, with the pride all gone. 

“ Anybody who takes it to our Father in Heaven 
and keeps it with him.” 

Tanzy went away, leaving her golden -rod in a 
pitcher on the table ; she was not at all sure that 
her friend understood how she had helped her. 

Mrs. Kenderdine had not told her the news about 
Mark ; in a letter received to-day he said that 


MRS. KENDERDINE^S STORY. 425 

he had put out his shingle in Philadelphia ; he was 
boarding with the Hartwells. Neither of them 
knew that Margaret had written to him to 
come. 

Tanzy burst into her mother^s room with her 
crazy plan on the tip of her tongue. 

Mamma, oh, I do so want the Kenderdines to 
come over and stay with us all winter ! It would 
be lovely for Mrs. Kenderdine — she would like it 
better than Florida; we have sunshine everywhere, 
and we will have flowers and oranges, and she 
wouldn’t bother you one bit. O, mamma, if you 
will. I’ll be so happy and good ! ” 

Mrs. Henderson was making fancy articles for the 
chm'ch fair in Mansfield ; she lifted both hands to 
draw Tanzy into her arms : I’d do anything to 
make you happy again, my darling. If Grold is 
willing, they shall come.” 

Oh, yes,” laughed Marigold, and I’ll help 
towards the Florida atmosphere. Mamma was wish- 
ing you would do something crazy. It frightens 
her to have you so good.” 

‘‘ Can they have the south rooms ? ” Tanzy would 
not stop to notice Marigold. 

Everything you choose, dear.” 


426 


FOURFOLD. 


Tan, have you thought of it all in a minute ? 
asked Marigold. 

“ I never think of anything all in a minute. I 
think and wait for the time to come to explode with 
it. They are my guests ; Gold, you shall have 
your own.” 

‘‘ I want a share in yours. I do not want any- 
body but mamma.” 

‘‘ Cinda, you shall have somebody,” said Tanzy, 
generously, to the busy girl in a corner. 

Like Gold, I want a share in yours.” 

I^m so glad you all love mine best. That house 
is not cheerful like this. How soon may they come, 
mamma, dear ? ” 

As soon as every comfort can be put into those 
two rooms ; I am glad they open into each other. 
Tan, it is a lovely thought.” 

‘‘ And now we can keep you at home,” said Mari- 
gold. Your madness certainly has method in it.” 

If you will only enjoy them as much as I do. 
They will be perfect guests,” sighed Tanzy, out of 
her full content. 

I think they will have a perfect hostess,” said 
Cinda, who found something new every day to ad- 
mire in Tanzy. 


MRS. KENDERDINE^S STORY. 


427 


And mamma, will you go over and invite them 
— ^to-morrow ? coaxed Tanzy, stUl cuddled in her 
mother^s arms, and crushing a velvet piece of 
prettiness embroidered with asters and golden- 
rod. 

A note will not do ? asked her mother, shrink- 
ing from the outside world. 

‘‘ Wouldn’t you rather your hostess should call 
and give the invitation — ^especially as it is some- 
what unusual, and she has not seen you many times ? 
They will not be proud about it. They know I 
love them well enough to give them Daisy Fields. 
And it will make it such a happy winter to 
us ! ” 

Tanzy, in her eagerness, was not watching her 
mother’s face 5 slowly, drop by drop, the tears fell 
on Tanzy’s hair ; how could any winter or sum- 
mer ever be happy to her again ? The girls were 
growing up to new happiness, but where was 
hers ? 

Mrs. Kenderdine had a word, a living word now 
and then from her husband, but no voice ever spoke 
to her from out those dead, dead lips. 

Mamma, darling,” cried Tanzy, penitently, 

they shall not come if it will worry you.” 


428 


FOURFOLD. 


I am glad; Tan ; — ^but I couldn’t help it — her 
husband is not so far away as mine.’^ 

Where her husband waS; she never dared think ; 
she did not dare ask the girls what they thought ; 
not one ray of hope or comfort concerning his life 
or death or present existence had the old minis- 
ter spoken to any one of them. His soul had been 
required of him. 

After the first shock and loneliness; Daisy Fields 
settled down into outward content ; they all loved 
to be safe and still; and best of all; at home. 

Their mother often sighed; ‘‘ Dear papa.^^ The 
girls; when they could trust themselves to speak of 
him; said; ‘‘ Poor papa.’^ 

When Mr. Fiske opened the will; the girls trem- 
bled for fear of being in some way bound; but they 
were free ; their money was their own; with not one 
restriction ; there were several bequests to benev- 
olent institutions; and one thousand dollars to the 
minister who should preach his funeral sermon. 

‘‘ Gold; do you think money did it? asked Tan- 
zy; the night the will was read. 

Did what ? 

“ Spoiled papa’s life.” 

“ Money doesn’t spoil everybody’s life.” 


MRS, KENDERDINE^S STORY, 


429 


shall not spoil mine. I ask God every day 
to make my money a blessing to me, or take it 
away.^^ 

I will — after this/^ promised Marigold, solemn- 

ly- 

Gold, I miss papa out of my prayersP 


XXX. 


IN, THROUGH, AND FOR. 

Let others miss me, 

Never miss me, God.” 

That evening, Tanzy, Lucinda and Margaret, 
in the late twilight, walked to Mansfield to attend 
the Friday evening service. 

These Friday evening services were one of Tanzy^s 
many ways of growing. 

I^m not doing anything this summer, excepting 
grow,’^ she said to Margaret. 

‘^How do you do it ? asked Margaret. 

I don^t know ; I feel it.’^ 

We see it,^^ was Margaret’s answer. 

Miss Lynn stood in the doorway peering about 
and making loud remarks. Maria and Hoyt 
Wayland passed in before them ; Lucinda stopped 
to speak to her aunt, and Tanzy and Margaret went 
in and seated themselves in one of the back pews. 
The audience was very small. An old man in con- 
(430) 


IN, THROUGH, AND FOR. 


431 


sumption, a deaf old man, several old women, two 
young men, half a dozen girls and three children. 
Tanzy whispered to Margaret : How can they 
keep away ? 

If the Lord were in Palestine to-day,^’ began 
the old minister, healing the sick, forgiving sins, 
teaching his disciples, and feeding the multitude, 
and he should send word to your dearest friend to 
come to him and stay with him, saying that he 
might never return to you, would you hinder his 
obeying the call ? Would you be willing, gladly 
willing to say farewell to him forever for this life, 
knowing that you would see his face no more? 
Would you be v/illing never to hear from him again, 
never to hear how he fared, never to know whether 
or not he were thinking of you ? 

All that you could know would be that he was 
with the Lord, perhaps leaning on his breast at 
supper, as J ohn did, walking with him, talking with 
him, learning his will and doing it, and growing 
into his likeness. No word from him might pass to 
you, no word from you to him. Would you let 
him go to-morrow — would you let him go to-night, 
if the message came that he must go to-night ? 

And when kind friends came condoling with you 


432 


FOURFOLD, 


in your sorrow, would it be your sorrow % Would 
it not be his joy ? Would it not be your joy every 
morning when you awoke, to think of him so near 
the Lord that he could see his face, and touch his 
hand? 

What would be your sorrow ? That he is no 
longer with you ? that he cannot see your face and 
touch your hand ? that he cannot know what you 
are thinking ? Would you call him back from the 
presence of the Lord for this ? Is your sorrow that 
you are not Avith him ? Ah, you will be, sooner than 
you think ; when the message comes to you, will you 
gladly obey ? 

Oh, how much dearer to be with Christ in his 
Father^s House, than to be with him in Palestine ! 
Your sorrow is not that he is taken, then, but that 
you are left. Who leaves you here a little while 
longer ? Even he who has taken him there. 

He has taken him because he wants him there. 
He has left you because he wants you here. He 
has something to do there. You have something to 
do here. He is growing there ; you are growing 
here. He is working there ; you are working 
here. To grow here and there, we must suffer his 
will to be done in us. To work here and there, 


IN, THROUGH, AND FOR, 


433 


we must suffer his will to be done through us.^^ 

That was all ; Tanzy waited, feeling as if hold- 
ing her breath for his next words. A hymn was 
sung, and then the deaf old man arose, and bowed 
his head and prayed ; after that the other old man 
arose and began to talk — in a wheezing voice. 

But Tanzy had her word ; she could listen no 
further. God^s will in her ; God’s will through her ; 
that was her work. 

One word more,” — her heart beat faster when 
the minister spoke again. God’s will for you will 
be done by his will in you and through you; you 
need never think about his will for you, he will 
take care of that* It will grow out of what is in 
you and through you. According to his will in you 
and through you, will be his good pleasure for you.” 

In the prayer that followed, Tanzy had no peti- 
tion, save : Give me all thy will.” And then she 
was almost frightened at herself for daring. God’s 
will had taken her father, and she did not know 
where he was — she could not think of him with the 
Christ he had not believed in or loved. Sob after 
sob came, and faster and faster; Lucinda’s hand 
upon hers brought her to herself j when she lifted 
her head she was quieted. 


434 


FOURFOLD, 


The carriage is here/^ she said, as they passed 
down the aisle. 

Oh, let us walk,’^ cried Lucinda. We are 
not afraid.’^ 

Mamma wouldn’t like it.” 

Not with an escort ? ” said Margaret. Mark is 
waiting at the door.” 

Before Tanzy could ask a question, she explained 
that he had walked from the station and rim up- 
stairs to her mother as though he had come in from 
an ordinary walk. He had promised to come to the 
church for them, and asked her to let him be a sur- 
prise. 

Tanzy was not sure that it was a pleasant sur- 
prise ; she had given him up forever, not ten hours 
ago, and here he was walking at her side, talking in 
his old familiar way, as if nothing had happened, 
and everything had happened. 

How good was it to-night ? ” he asked. 

Too good to talk about,” she answered, with so 
much feeling that her voice seemed harsh. Margaret 
could only exclaim, Then you cannot tell me ? ” 

I couldn’t. I can scarcely tell it to myself. 
You have known it always. It is so new to me that 
it overpowers me.” 


IN, THROUGH, AND FOR. 


435 


Then I will tell you about Lake George/^ 

I would rather know what you think of Mrs. 
Kenderdine.^^ 

Oh, yes, Mark,’^ Margaret^s voice broke in 
eagerly, you can tell me now, you have seen her 
long enough,^^ 

“ There is no real change, nothing to startle you. 
She will pick up again. I do not think that house 
is good for her. It is too low. If it were high, like 
Daisy Fields — ’’ 

And then how could Tanzy keep her secret any 
longer ? It came bubbling out, the words so tum- 
bling over each other, that Mark laughed and begged 
her to begin again, and Margaret was too delighted 
to dare to understand. 

Cinda, help me to tell it,’^ cried Tanzy; ^^you 
and I have planned it all. Margaret, I am to have 
you and your darling mother to stay all winter at 
dear Daisy Fields ; you are to come to-morrow, if 
you only will ! And Cinda and I are to put every 
lovely thing in the house and in the world, in your 
two chambers ; we are to be your waiting maids. 
And I never can thank you enough for coming. 
Mamma wants you, and Gold is glad.^^ 

0, Tanzy ! Tanzy ! 


436 


FOURFOLD. 


Miss Tanzy, you are a fairy/^ said Mark. If 
I were a millionaire, I could do nothing better for 
her. Will you let me come once in a while ? 

That is for your patient to say/^ 

She will not need to be my patient, or any- 
body’s, under such treatment.” 

Margaret, do you really like it ? ” asked Tanzy, 
in anxiety, “ do you really care for Daisy Fields ? ” 
I can’t answer ; I’m too glad. I’m afraid I 
shall cry and make a goose of myself. Mark, don’t 
let mother know to-night; she will not sleep one 
bit. Tanzy, I can’t think what makes you do it.” 

I don’t see how I can help it. I want it more 
than anything. I didn’t know how I could live 
without your mother ! I was dreaming last night 
about her going, and awoke sobbing.” 

^^She was nearly as bad about going; but she 
knew she couldn’t stay in that house all winter, 
even with fires, Daisy Fields is so much higher. 
Your lawn has such a pretty slope. I do not know 
how I feel. It doesn’t seem to mean anything to 
me. I shall be afraid to have morning come. Mark, 
are you here ? Am I dreaming ? ” 

It is all a phantasy. Miss Tanzy will lift her 
wand and wave it, and it will all disappear; there 


IN, THROUGH, AND FOR. 


437 


will be no lawn with such a pretty slope, no Daisy 
Fields full of sunny windows, no gentle mother, no 
golden-headed Marigold, no riotous Tanzy, no will- 
ing Lucinda, no to-morrow morning. No nothing.’^ 
The laughter in four different keys rang out 
over the dark, still, country road ; Tanzy bubbled 
over all the way home. 

The same girl who sobbed in church j but she 
was always sobbing or bubbling over. 

Mother will say it is just good enough to be 
true,’^ Margaret said to Mark, after they left the 
girls on the piazza at Daisy Fields. Mother^s 
faith is my fortune. Mark, what do you think of 
Tanzy Henderson now ? 

I think she’s growing into a splendid woman.” 

Her life has been very hard.” 

^^She thrives on it. She is growing as corn 
grows in midsummer heat.” 

Mark, is it easy to be a good doctor ? ” asked 
Margaret, with a sudden and sharp feeling, that it 
was not quite fair of Tanzy. 

It requires a deal of wisdom not learned in doc- 
tor’s books, Sis.” 


xxxt. 

HELPING AND GETTING READY TO HELP. 

Beauty of character comes only from loving obedience to 
every known law of God in nature and in grace.” 

Something else helped Tanzy about this time ; it 
was a very simple talk in Sunday-school ; she told 
Mrs. Kenderdine that nothing could be too simple 
for her ; she would love to be in Mrs. Kansom^s in- 
fant class. 

The talk was given by a lady who was visiting 
at the Parsonage, a lady whose life was given to 
girls ; Tanzy thought her name suited her : Grace 
Maxim. The Sunday-school room was not large, 
and she was talking to girls; she said she did 
not feel at all as though she were speaking in 
public,’^ that would have frightened her. 

I am not sure that Marigold would have cared to 
listen ; but she had not yet become a little child. 
Tanzy said it would have suited mamma. Lucinda 

hoped that it was the story of her own life. 

(438) 


HELPING AND GETTING READY TO HELP, 439 


The lady began to talk in such a lively voice that 
everybody thought a story was coming : 

When God sends an angel down into this world, 
he sends him down to help ; when God sent every 
one of you into his world, was it not to help f 

And not only to help, but to help him. You know 
what God is doing : he is comforting the comfort' 
less, he is giving strength to the strengthless, he is 
teaching the ignorant, he is making wise the fool- 
ish, he is giving repentance and faith to sinners, and 
building up the saints, his holy ones. 

^^God is doing this ; but, strong and wise as he is, 
all-strong and all-wise as he is, he cannot do it alone 
— cannot, because he will not — and he has sent you 
into his world to be his helper. Would you rather 
do something else ? 

“ Can you think of anything more glorious ? Can 
you think of anything that will last longer ? Now, 
if you have decided to be one of God^s helpers, the 
next thing to do is to get ready to help. 

Some of you have had ten years, eleven years, 
twelve years, and perhaps ten or fifteen more, to be 
getting ready to help ; you have had so many that 
you are already a helper. 

There is another thing that God does : he makes 


440 


FOURFOLD, 


US ready. He makes us ready^ and we make our- 
selves ready ; and one blessed thing about this work 
of preparation is that no time is lost : while God is 
working for us^ and we are working for ourselves^ 
we may be doing something to help him ; we may 
begin to be helpers immediately. 

Everything we do helps us to do the next thing 
and helps us to understand what the next thing is. 

‘‘ God is comforting the comfortless. Now, how 
are you helping him to do that ? Must you go into 
the tall tenement-houses or down on the wharves 
or out into the crowded streets to find comfortless 
people ? Must you go away from home ? 

You are not ready for that, but you therefore 
need not wait to be ready before you begin to be one 
of his comforters. Frank is crying because he can- 
not find his gloves : can you comfort him by telling 
him that he is a careless little fellow, and deserves 
to be scolded, and then to be late, and hurry off 
yourself and forget him ? 

But you remember how you were comforted once 
when you lost something, and you comfort him in 
God^s way. (It may be his fault that he lost them, 
but God comforts us when it is our fault.)^^ 

In saying this over and over to herself, Tanzy 


HELPING AND GETTING READY TO HELP. 441 

lost the next illustration, but as that was for the girl 
next to her it did not matter. 

know a father who has three dear girls, and last 
year he failed in business. 

^ Mamie must have something to wear,’ sighed 
overworked mamma, ^ and I can’t make her dress, 
nor afford to pay a dressmaker.’ 

The older sister went about the house meditat- 
ing. ^ Might she try f She had helped the dress- 
maker.’ 

^^Two hours afterward, having counted the cost, she 
went to her mother, and proposed doing it herself. 

‘‘ The next Sunday morning, when Mamie stood 
ready for church in the made-over dress, mamma 
whispered to the little dressmaker, ^ Carrie, you 
are such a comfort ! ’ 

Carrie turned away with quick emotion ; she did 
not like to tell mamma how she had prayed over 
the sleeves and the trimming, and especially the 
draping of the overskirt. She knew God had helped 
her 5 she did not know that she had helped him. 

^ I am so glad I heard that sermon !’ said Mamie, 
when she came home from church. 

‘‘ ‘ You couldn’t have heard it but for Carrie,’ re- 
turned her mother. 


442 


FOURFOLD. 


‘ Me and the minister/ laughed Carrie, with a 
flutter at her heart. 

God gives strength to the strengthless. 

The doctor says Jennie will lose the use of her 
limbs if she isn’t rubbed every day; she must be 
rubbed and encouraged to step and use her hands. 

^Oh dear ! ’ sighed the mother, ^ if I only had a 
trained nurse ! ’ 

Then up spoke Lizzie : ‘ Mamma, I’ll make it 
my duty to rub her every morning, and every night, 
and coax her to walk a little, and do things with 
her hands.’ 

‘‘ ‘ She is so stubborn, I’m afraid you’ll give up.’ 

Jennie was stubborn, but her sister was persever- 
ing ; to-day Jennie walks five blocks without help. 
Yesterday, when she was out, she saw at a window, 
a pale face in a wheel-chair. Coming down the steps 
were two gentlemen; one remarked to the other, 
‘ I told her father ten years ago that if she was not 
forced to exercise, she would become helpless. She 
can just lift a spoon to her lips; has not dressed her- 
self for years.’ 

That night Jennie threw both arms about her 
sister : ^ It is God and my sister who made me 
strong.’ 


HELPING AND GETTING READY TO HELP, 443 

Margaret said to herself, thinking of her mo- 
ther's weak limbs and tender spine : It is God 
and my daughter who have made me strong.^^ 

God teaches the ignorant. 

^ I have such a splendid book to read this after- 
noon ! Let^s read it together/ cried Harriet. 

‘ I can’t ; I must go out.’ 

^ You will miss something, if you miss this.’ 

^ But my Chinese boy will miss me.’ 

‘ Oh, that heathen ! What do you do it for ? ’ 

Harriet knew. But she knew better when that 
missionary from China examined her Chinese boy 
and said that he gave satisfying evidence of a re- 
newed heart, and the Session allowed him to unite 
with the church. What she did was so little, but 
that little was a part of God’s great deal.” 

Was her little a part of God’s great deal, Lucinda 
wondered. God makes wise the foolish. 

^ That girl talks nothing but the siUiest nonsense,’ 
exclaimed Sarah’s teacher one day. ^ If some girl 
of her own age would check her and show her dis- 
approval and help her to talk sense, she would be a 
great blessing. She is the greatest giggler in the 
class.’ 

Julia overheard the despairing remark and 


444 


FOURFOLD. 


hopeful suggestion. ^ I don^t like her/ she waver- 
ed to herself, ^ but I would like to be the ^ great 
blessing.^ She likes to hear me talk, and perhaps 
we might write to each other, and I could help her 
that way/ 

When Sarah was two years older, a lady told 
Julia that she had chosen a very sensible girl 
for a friend. 

God gives repentance. 

You cannot give repentance. 

But some one you know has done a wrong thing 
and does not seem to be sorry for it. Ask God to 
give her repentance, and then write to her about it 
or talk it over with her. 

God gives faith ; you cannot give it. But did 
you never feel that you had more faith after talking 
with some one about it ? 

You surely have had stronger faith after reading 
about some one^s strong faith, and the good that 
came of it. 

It is hard for girls to talk about themselves — 
not about their music-lessons, or the book they are 
reading, or the way their new dress is to be trimmed, 
or the journey they expect to take next week; but 
these are all outside things, and I find no fault with 


HELPING AND GETTING READY TO HELP. 445 


you for finding it so difficult that at times it is im- 
possible (the comfort is that it will grow easier) ; but 
when you can tell some dear friend of an answered 
prayer^ you will be helping God to make her faith 
grow. 

God builds up his saints. 

I suppose saints have very weak moments — per- 
haps hours ; they feel that they are only on the 
foundation — not hmlt up at all. I know a lady, 
whom people called a saint, who was built up higher 
by a weak, sweet little prayer a young girl prayed 
in a girls^ prayer-meeting. 

If God asks you to help him and promises to 
make you ready, will you, all you can 

In that hour Tanzy gave herself with full self- 
surrender to any work that God would show her 
was his work ; and she knew now what his work 


was. 


XXXII. 

BY THE BEOOK. 

Sorrow is often misquoted. It is only one step in a long 
journey, one stage in a long growth.’^ 

Mark came Friday afternoon, and had promised 
to return Monday morning; The girls, Tanzy, Lu- 
cinda, and Margaret, found him waiting for them at 
the church gate, when they came out of Sunday- 
school. 

Lucinda strayed away to go into the churchyard ; 
Tanzy, sometimes, gave a shivering glance towards 
the monument that her mother had erected to the 
memory of her little playmate, her friend and cousin, 
and husband ; at Tanzy’s insistence, the words he 
had spoken of had been cut upon it : Because the 
way is short, I thank thee, God.^^ 

In this short way he had been everything to her 
whose love had placed the stone above him. 

Tanzy could not think of him there in the ground. 

She could not think of him anywhere but at home 
( 446 ; 


BV THE BROOK. 


447 


with them — as he was before they came to Daisy 
Fields this summer, before Marigold told her the 
weakness and sin of his life. Christ knew where 
he was. 

I haven^t any father/^ her heart was sobbing 
this afternoon. 

Her eyes touched Mark anew as she stood beside 
Margaret, not speaking at all, waiting for Lucinda. 
Her carriage was driving up and down the long 
village street. Lucinda returned with a rose in 
her hand; Mark and Margaret refused to ride, 
Mark saying it might be his last summer walk 
along the country road. Margaret smiled at 
Tanzy, Mark lifted his hat, then the two who 
were to walk started leisurely off. 

Margaret remembered that last look at Tanzy ; 
the next time she saw her she was too shy and 
glad and ashamed and sorry to look into her eyes. 

That store is a q[ueer place,’’ observed Mark, 
with something like constraint in his voice. 

The store was directly opposite the church ; a 
half-dozen rickety steps led up to a long covered 
piazza ; within, beside the post-office department, 
were straw hats, men’s clothing, ice cream, shoes and 
boots, colored glass ware, groceries and dry-goods. 


448 


FOURFOLD. 


Yes/^ returned Margaret^ glancing into his self- 
absorbed face. 

But he was not self-absorbed^ he was absorbed in 
his companion ; an hour ago her mother had told 
him that Margaret had been drooping ; she was^ot 
drooping io-day ; she was the busiest, the blithest 
little woman a man ever had to walk at his side, and 
the sweetest, with her loving pale brown eyes, and 
woman’s instinct of self-sacrifice. She was not a 
society woman like Bess Hartwell ; she would never 
be a splendid woman like Tanzy Henderson, she 
had not quite the strength of Susie, the promised 
wife he would never forget, but she was little Mar- 
garet, sweet and wise, and he loved her, or he could 
never love any one else in the world. 

He was not sure that he loved her until he went 
away from her, and then he was not at all sure that 
she loved him. 

That afternoon, in reply to Mrs. Kenderdine’s 
question : Do you know why you do not love 

Tanzy, much as you admire her ? ” he had replied. 

Yes, I know why. It is because I love your Mar- 
garet.” 

My Margaret,” he was saying, as he walked 
along beside her. 


BY THE BROOK. 


449 


“ Mark, don’t you want to see the brook once 
more ? ” 

Twice more.” 

It is a longer way around, and mother will 
miss us.” 

‘‘ No, she will not. Mrs. Henderson is with her. 
Mrs. Henderson sent word asking if she might come. 
What a sweet comfort she will be to that little silly- 
wise mother ! Do you know I think Daisy Fields 
has the best of it, getting you both there.’’ 

Tanzy says so. But I know I have the 
best of it. Will it be pleasant for you to 
come % ” 

I shall not come if your mother is well. Not 
soon. Will you mind ? ” 

Your not coming ? Not if it is best not. You 
will write to mother, as usual ? ” 

Not if I may write to you.” 

They had turned into a cross road on the way to 
the brook. 

Oh, yes, if you care to ; but I do not write in^ 
teresting letters like mother,” 

One word from you has more interest to me 
than a foolscap sheet from your mother, unless, in^ 
deed, the foolscap sheet be full of you,” 

29 


450 


FOURFOLD, 


Mother would not do that/^ said Margaret^ with 
the shadow of a troubled smile. 

His words and his manner startled her ; it was not 
like him to be vehement with her, and to flatter 
her — his little sister. 

If it were not Tanzy that he cared for, she 
had decided that it must be Bess Hartwell. 

Your mother is very wise/^ he returned, not 
thinking at all of what he was saying. 

Isn’t Cinda another girl since she went to Daisy 
Fields ? ” Margaret began, with new animation. 

She dresses with more style.” 

That isn’t all ; it is her manner. And, oh, do 
you know about our Indian ? ” 

Her tone was rapid and eager. She was afraid 
Mark might say something like that again, and 
then he might guess, although it was so little to 
him, how much it was to her ! 

I was not aware that you owned an Indian.” 

We do. For awhile. In our missionary 
society. Tanzy has joined it, and has been made 
secretary, and writes to him. He has a royal 
name — Charles Stuart. He is a real Indian.” 

^^In war paint and feathers, with a scalping-knife 
and tomahawk % ” 


BY THE BROOK. 


451 


He hasn’t sent his photograph. He has asked 
for ^ clothes to wear.’ He wants a coat ^ slick and 
black/ to preach in.” 

I saw an Indian girl at Lake George in a 
jersey. Think of Minnehaha in a jersey ! ” 

And Hiawatha in a slick black coat, writing 
good English, and asking for ^ Eyle on the 
Gospels.’ He thanked Tanzy for her loving letter. 
I know it was sympathetic. He has been burned 
out, and asks for all the books he has lost. Mari- 
gold says Tanzy wishes to build him a Queen Anne 
house, and send his wife black silk stockings ! 
But that’s her nonsense. She knows Tan has 
common sense.” 

Isn’t mamma interested ? ” 

O yes, indeed. She is rather afraid of him. 
Gold says she is afraid he will scalp Tan with a 
sheet of letter paper. I believe she would send all 
her handsome dresses to his wife, but the girls take 
care of that. Isn’t it touching to see them in white, 
so as not to sadden their mother draped in crape ? 
That was Gold’s thought.” 

"What will they do in winter ? Can girls wear 
white in winter ? ” 

Wear white at home, and plain, dark colors 


452 


FOURFOLD, 


when they go out. Mrs. Henderson couldn^t be 
happy unless she were muffled in erape.^^ 

During the pause that followed, Margaret dared 
not glance into the face that she felt to be so grave. 
Was she displeasing him ? Was he watching be- 
tween her words that he evidently did not care for, 
to tell her about Bess ? She had been sorry for 
Tanzy. She could not be glad for Bess. Mark 
always helped her in trouble, but he could not help 
her in this — the hardest that she had ever had. 

Her next quick words were about Nurse. 

Mark had seen her twice, and advised her to sit 
up awhile every day, and even step, saying at 
Christmas he expected to find her making pies in 
the kitchen. 

The doctor called but once a week. She had 
not learned to like him, and persisted that she 
would have been about the house if Dr. Kenderdine 
had not gone away. 

When the topic of Nurse was exhausted, they 
had come to the brook. It flowed through the woods 
behind Daisy Fields, dashing over a bed of stones. 
The simlight, falling on the leaves, threw their 
shadows on the water ; Margaret stood looking 
down into the brown and yellow of its stony bed. 


BV THE BROOK. 


453 


Taking her hand, Mark led her to a place where 
the rocks were piled as if thrown together, and the 
water rushed through and over them. Seating her 
on a rock, he found a place for himself beside her ; 
their feet rested on a fallen tree trunk, that 
reached from the bank to a flat rock half way 
across the riotous little stream. 

She called his attention to a bit of bright green 
moss on a flat rock below the fall, a single grass 
stalk growing out of it was glistening with 
spray. 

Straight and strong on its foundation, in spite of 
the water about it ; noise and force do not seem to 
disturb it.^’ 

It has a mind of its own,^^ he said. 

It has a foundation.^^ 

Have you a mind of your own ? he asked. 

About some things, yes ; haven^t you ? 

About some one thing, I most assuredly have. 
Margaret, how much do you love me ? 

I — don^t — know,^^ she faltered. 

Then how can you tell me ? 

'a— can’t.'V 

You must. I must know. I know how much 
I love you.’^ 


454 


FOURFOLD. 


How did you learn it ? she asked, looking 
away from him and gaining confidence. 

By going away from you, by being away from 
you. It kept me from loving some on© else.’^ 

Then I should be sorry. 

Are you sorry ? ’’ 

Stooping, she dipped her hand in the water. 

Are you sorry ? You must tell me before I let 
you go off this rock.” 

Then Til stay — like that grass.” 

Then Vll stay, too — ^like that rock.” 

She laughed, and threw the water up into his 
face. 

Are you sorry ? ” drawing her into his arms. 

I am sorry — for somebody.” 

^^That proves that you are glad for yourself. 
Kiss me, Margaret, and we will go home and tell 
your mother.” 

O, Mark, dropping her head on his arm, I am 
so sorry ; I^m afraid it is my fault.” 

It is,” he said joyously, it is all your fault ; I 
do not feel to blame at all.” 

But you must promise me something,” she in- 
sisted, with her face still hidden. 

After you have promised me something.” 


BY THE BROOK. 


455 


What is it ? 

let me take you and your mother to my 
home in the spring.^^ 

I cannot promise for my mother/' 

No, you saucy little creature, but you can prom- 
ise for yourself/' 

I will, then/' 

He lifted her face to kiss her lips, then let it hide 
itself again. 

Now what shall I promise you ? " 

Not to act — as if — " 

I will never act as if ! " 

Wait till Tanzy doesn't care. She doesn't care 
as much as she did at first." 

It was a fancy. She has something else to think 
of now," he said, magnanimously. 

That is true, and the secret of it. I do believe 
that if she had had as much to think of then, she 
would not have cared." 

Tell me true, dear, have you drooped for me? 
Have I made you suffer any f " 

But Margaret would not say. 

I will be very good to you," he said, as they 
arose. I am selfish, and I do not see clearly. 


456 


FOURFOLD, 


I am stupid. Now I am blessed beyond every- 
thing. 

Margaret was sure she was. 

suppose I must write to your father. 

And if he says ^ no/ I won’t.” 

If he says ^ no/ you needn’t.” 


xxxiir. 


THAT WINTER. 

Not unfrequently, the most important years of a life, the 
years which tell most on the character, are unmarked by any 
notable events.’^ 

What a house it was that winter ! Four girls ! 
Marigold and Tanzy, Lucinda and Margaret. The 
two mothers looked on. 

Marigold felt as if she, also, were standing aside, 
looking on ; as if her story had not come yet. 

Every thread of her life was interwoven with 
her mother’s : sad colored threads they were, many 
of them threads of reminiscence ; every night and 
every morning, as the two sat together, devoted to 
each other, and to some work they held in their 
hands. Marigold patiently listened to the same 
stories : how papa lifted her down from a stone 
wall when she was a little thing, and hurt his foot 

by the falling of a loose stone ; how he laughed at 

( 457 ) 


458 


FOURFOLD. 


her when she shed bitter tears over her fractions, 
and did the hard examples for her ; how glad she was, 
without half understanding anything about it, when 
he took her to grandfather’s study to ask his con« 
sent ; and then how queer it was, and how nice, to 
find herself the little mistress of Daisy Fields ; what 
a cunning, darling baby Marigold was, with her 
puffy cheeks and thin red hair ; and how frightened 
she was one night when she cried a whole hour, 
and Nurse cordd not quiet her j and then Tanzy 
came, and such a dark little creature, with such a 
temper — only papa could manage her j and the 
sad change in papa, and the constant going some- 
where, and his strange moods and freaks, it took 
her so long to understand them ! 

Marigold was very weary of the incessant re- 
petition when they were alone ; but the soft 
black dress, so different from mamma’s pretty pale 
colors, touched her, and she smiled or sighed, and 
answered with interest and appreciation. 

The entrance of any one of the girls brought 
relief. She was keeping mamma’s year of mourn- 
ing with her. Tanzy’s life was brisk, and alert, 
and full. 

Through her, Daisy Fields was beginning to 


TJIAT WINTER. 


459 


stretch out a helping hand in many directions. 
She always had something to ^^alk over^^ with 
somebody. 

Marigold felt that the shadow that passed over 
her when Mark Kenderdine went away had not 
left one trace of a shadow. The brightness under- 
neath had grown brighter. She looked up, with 
interested eyes, when his letters came to Margaret, 
and asked for the news, even sending messages to 
him. 

One Marigold remembered : Tell him he 

hoped I would find something very good out in the 
world, and I have found it : work with a purpose 
in it.” 

Margaret was like a bird in a nest this winter : 
so sheltered with mother love and lover love. 
The sweetness of it, she had learned, was that it 
was God^s love coming to her in these sweet chosen 
ways of His. 

But none of the four were happier than Lucinda, 
the child of Tanzy^s adoption. 

Every day she discovered more and more what 
this adoption meant to Tanzy. 

Their latest plan was to be old maids together, 
and work and do good.” 


460 


FOURFOLD. 


Lucinda’s indignation had not cooled toward Mr, 
Fiske. He was a spy, and had tried to get her 
away from Tanzy out of pure selfishness ; he had 
no right to do a mean thing, even for his mother. 
With it all was a hurt little feeling that he had 
not sought her for her own sake, only for her ser- 
vices and for his mother. And she had listened 
and waited for his step, and cared to hear him talk ! 

About Christmas, he spent a day and night at 
Daisy Fields, at Tanzy ’s invitation. She had busi- 
ness to talk over with him ; but Lucinda steadily 
avoided him. 

She was proud that he felt the change in her 
position. She did not think he would again urge 
her to become nurse to his mother! And then, 
how ashamed she was, remembering Mr. Kansom’s 
words about gratitude and humility, 

Maria said Daisy Fields had spoiled her. That 
she put on airs, and acted as though she wanted a 
servant to stand behind her chair at dinner. 

In her contrition she prayed : Please don’t 

let Daisy Fields spoil me,” 

Daisy Fields was good for every one else, why 
should it spoil only herself ? 

Her grandfather’s Bible and the box of pebbles 


THAT WINTER, 


461 


on a shelf in her closet would keep her from for- 
getting those old days in Auntie’s kitchen and that 
old house up in the woods. 

One day that full winter Tanzy asked the min- 
ister a question. She had been thinking of it all 
winter. 

He called, and she had taken him into grand- 
father’s study It was her work-room. 

If a person has something on his mind — some 
wrong he has done, or some good he has not done, 
and feels condemned for it, must he confess 
it to somebody, and make it right to have it 
forgiven ? ” 

He must confess to God,” 

But not to the one he has wronged ? ” 

If a man bring his gift to the altar, and then 
remembers that his brother has something against 
him — something that he has a right to have against 
him — ^he is commanded to leave his gift and go his 
way, first to be reconciled to his brother.” 

^^Like Zaccheus and his fourfold. But suppose 

a man does not ” 

You know as well as I do.” 

Then must he bear his sin ? ” Tanzy said, with 
eyes of anxiety. 


462 


FOURFOLD. 


Every man must bear his sin unless Christ bear 
it for him.’^ 

But we do not know — no one can ever 
know — any man^s repentance as he knows it him- 
self;' 

No.” 

I do not know why I have been thinking about 
such things. I do not mind saying to you that papa 
did love his money, and I sometimes fear he may 
have wronged somebody, and had not time to make 
restitution. And grandfather, too. It makes me 
hate it, when I think I may have inherited a love 
of it. I am more afraid of wronging some one, of 
being unjust, than I am of any other sin. I am 
afraid of what may be in my blood. I want to 
give what papa should have given. I want to 
do for Mansfield church what my great-grand- 
father did not think to do. And, of course, it seems 
like a kind of poetical justice to give gold to Cinda 
for her grandfather^s pebbles. But my great- 
grandfather did buy land in Missouri before she 
was bom, and before I was ; and I like to think 
I am giving somebody ^s fourfold to her. No one 
could love her, and love to give it as I do. So it 
doesn^t matter, really, whose fourfold it is, does it ? ” 


THAT WINTER. 


463 


^^Not to you; not to her. But it does matter to 
the man who failed to restore it.^^ 

But we cannot help that.’^ 

Like every other man’s past, it is with Grod — 
the God of justice and mercy. No, my dear 
young lady, that is not your responsibility.” 

I cannot know, in dollars and cents, what 
Cinda’s fourfold portion should be ; but I can give 
her so much of life’s pleasant things, that she can- 
not miss anything.” 

See you do not spoil her,” he cautioned. 

‘‘ Mr. Ransom, is God spoiling me by giving me 
Daisy Fields ? 

Indeed, I hope not.” 

Then I don’t believe he is spoiling her.” 

‘‘ It would be hard for her to go back to Miss 
Lynn.” 

Why should she ? with a flash of indignation. 

She belongs to me.” 

Notwithstanding this belonging, in March Lucinda 
did go back to Miss Lynn. The old lady had an 
attack of rheumatic fever, and sent for her in 
haste. Maria joggled the bed,” and she couldn’t 
get a wink of sleep, unless Cinda came.” 

So Cinda went and stayed eleven weeks. She 


464 


FOURFOLD. 


kissed Auntie after she died, and brushed her thin, 
iron-gray hair, and forgave her for not trusting 
her, and talking against her to the neighbors. 

Maria says you’ve got enough,” she said to her 
two days before she died. 

I would be rich with half,” replied Lucinda. 

Don’t worry your dear heart about me.” 

^^Not that I grudge leaving you a shilling,” 
the faint voice went on ; but I haven’t got 
much to leave, and Marla is my own flesh and 
blood.” 

am Tanzy’s flesh and blood,” said Cinda, in 
fond, proud gratitude. Now it is time for your 
mutton tea.” 

And don’t you go to sleep if I do ? ” 

No. I promise. Shut your eyes.” 

Maria and Hoyt Way land were talking over the 
kitchen fire. 

Your farm and mine will not be bad to 
have.” 

Opening the door softly, for fear of disturbing 
the sufferer on the same floor, Lucinda heard the 
half-earnest, half-playful remark. 

She was sorry it was Hoyt Wayland who said 
it. 


THAT WINTER. 


465 


She went back to Daisy Fields to stay for- 
ever/’ Tanzy said, joyfully, with a gingham-cov- 
ered Daily Food/’ Miss Lynn had read every day 
for thirty years, the only token of remembrance of 
all those young, hard years of service. 

But for Tanzy she would have been lonely and 
homesick that first night. All her old life was be- 
hind her. But for Tanzy her new life would have 
had no sweet human interest. Her heart felt bur- 
dened with gratitude as she thought that God had 
given her to Tanzy for such a time as this. She 
never knew about the fourfold ” that was being 
made many fold. 

Mrs. Kenderdine,” Lucinda said, standing at her 
bedside one night to say good-night, even Daisy 
Fields isn’t enough to make me perfectly happy. 
I am glad I did not come any younger : because I 
might have thought so. I think I am as glad for 
the years with Auntie, when I think soberly about 
it — as I do at night and Communion Smidays — as I 
am for being here, and having everything as 
though I had a right. I’m so sorry you couldn’t 
go to church to-day. It was Tanzy ’s first Com- 
munion, and she has been so still ever since.” 

But the Lord has promised to come and ^ sup ’ 


466 


FOURFOLD. 


with US at home. Just think what that means ! It 
is our dearest and most familiar friends who stay with 
us and break bread with us. I think of him sitting 
at our table, listening to the merry talk, the serious 
talk, knowing all the plans and work from day to 
day, from meal to meal — tasting with us our 
daily bread.’^ 

Lucinda gave this thought to Tanzy. 

Yes,’^ said Tanzy, looking up from her New 
Testament, with the sweetness of her first Commun- 
ion in her eyes, that is what he did in the house 
of that rich man — Zaccheus.^’ 


March, 1887^ 


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♦OLIVE LIBRARY. 

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wooden case, net 25.00 

PALEY, Wm. 

Evidences of Christianity. Edited by Professor Naime. 

i2mo 1.50 

PEEP OF DAY LIBRARY. 

8 vols., i8mo 4.50 

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9 


PEEP OF DAY LIBRARY, co7ttinued. 


The Kings of Israel. i8mo )?o.6o 

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Captivity of Judah. i8mo o.6o 

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^POOL’S ANNOTATIONS. 

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“ Pool’s Annotations are sound, clear, and sensible; and, taking 
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PRIME, E. D. G., D.D. 

Forty Years in the Turkish Empire. A Memoir of Rev. 

W. Goodell, D.D. lamo 1.50 

“ The genial spirit, the humor and wit, the shrewd sense, the sin- 
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“ We know not what to say of ‘ Forty Years in the Turkish Em- 
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RYLE, J. C. 

Notes on the Gospels. 7 vols. lamo 10.50 

Matthew 1.50 

Mark 1.50 

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“ It is the kernels without the shells, expressed in language 
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‘‘The ‘ Expository Thoughts* are excellent and useful aids to 
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and instructed by so dear, practical, and evangelical a work.” — WWv 
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SHAW, Catharine. 

The Gabled Farm. i2mo 
•Nellie Arundel. i2mo . 
In the Sunlight. lamo , 
Hilda. i2mo .... 
Only a Cousin. lamo . 
Out in the Storm. i8mo 
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Left to Ourselves. i2mo 
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1.25 

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0.50 

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6. Present Truth. lamo i.oo 

7. Types and Emblems. lamo i.oo 

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None of the previous named volumes is in this set. 

SPURGEON’S SERMON NOTES. 

I, From Genesis to Proverbs . i.oo 

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All of Grace. An Earnest Word with those who are 

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John Ploughman’s Pictures. i6mo 0.75 

John Ploughman’s Talk and Pictures. In i vol. lamo . i.oo 

WALTON, Mrs. O. F. 

Christie’s Old Organ. i8mo 0.40 

Saved at Sea. i8mo 0.40 

Little Faith. i8mo 0.40 

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vol. i6mo I.oo 

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Was I Right? i6mo i.oo 

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Taken or Left. i8mo 0.40 

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Blue Flag and Cloth of Gold, lamo ^1.25 

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Tired Church-Members 0.50 

WARNER, Susan. 

The Old Helmet. i2mo . . .' . • 1.50 

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Pine Needles. A Tale 1.25 

My Desire. i2mo 1.50 

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Nobody, ismo 1.50 

Stephen, M.D. i2mo 1.50 

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Small Beginnings. 4 vols 5 .00 

Say and Do Series. 6 vols 7.50 

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WIN AND WEAR SERIES. 

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By the Same Author. 

Green Mountain Series. 5 vols., in a box 6.00 

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Hester Trueworthy’s Royalty 1.25 

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YOUNG, John. 

The Christ of History. 1.25 

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